There is only so much laziness allowed for college kids

I’ve been called lazy before. Not directly, but it’s definitely been insinuated by a few of… I’ve been called lazy before. Not directly, but it’s definitely been insinuated by a few of my high school teachers during awe-inspiring rants of the “you aren’t working up to your potential” variety. They may have been right on the money. If so, then you can just put me in the “high school underachiever” category — I’m sure the pain and personal anguish is merely fleeting.

When I began college, under threat of my parents disowning me, I made an honest effort to kick my “satisfied with mediocrity” ass into gear. Not that I’m setting any new standards for the ideal scholar, but, in general, I make sure I go to class and get my assignments all turned in on time — a simple equation that I could never manage to balance in the past.

Even with my parents’ threats to cut me out of their wills implanted in the back of my mind, I still have enough time to lay around and cling to the last bit of adolescent laziness I can get away with before being forced into the obligatory land of the adult rat race.

I actually kind of admire those who can get away with excessive lethargy. You know, those kids who seem to mysteriously appear from the depths of some booze-laden cavern to take the final examination. They’re generally left dumbfounded if asked for directions to some mythical place called Hillman Library by a lost-soul freshman, and are typically on a six-year graduation plan. Despite all this, many parents still foot the bill for their budding Einsteins. I wish I could get away with it — more power to ya.

As impressive as this type of existence is, there is one act of sluggishness that is absolutely inexcusable and unforgivable, the cardinal sin of proper societal etiquette: Using an elevator to transport your lazy ass up or down ONE floor of any structure equipped with this amazing new technology called “stairs.”

Of course, the natural exception is for those who are handicapped or physically not able to climb a set of stairs. They deserve all the patience in the world.

Exceptions aside, recently I was in the basement of the Cathedral, waiting for an elevator to whisk me away to an upper-teen level floor. Upon arrival of the elevator, people crammed in like sardines with everyone coughing and breathing all over one another. God help you if you’re “that guy” who forgot to apply deodorant or if you’re battling claustrophobia issues.

It takes a good minute or so to stuff everyone inside. Once passengers have hit their requested floor indicator buttons, we’re on our way — or so I thought. The elevator stops suddenly, and a voice from the rear can be heard to say, “Excuse me.” Sure enough, the chick in the very back needs to get off — on the FIRST floor.

Her early departure requires a nearly complete evacuation of everyone in this firetrap transportation device. Mimicking moves of circus-folk, we pile out and back into the elevator as if we were in a clown car. After what is probably a two-minute transitionary process, we resume our ascent to higher levels of the second-tallest educational structure in the world.

This may seem like small apples in the grand scheme of things — and it is — but seriously, how hard is it to climb one measly flight of stairs instead of inconveniencing many others who are required to voyage beyond the easily-reached-on-foot fourth floor?

Walking stairs has an abundance of benefits. It burns calories — a plus for all of us who spent spring break eating, drinking, and not doing much else. It tones your butt, and you can’t beat the picturesque surroundings of freshly painted stairwells. All right, that may be a stretch.

Above all else, one-floor passengers really try the patience of those of us equipped with considerably short fuses in the first place. I’m willing to cut a deal with those of you who abuse the service of our easily accessible elevators — if you need to go three floors or less, then huff it, and I’ll make a conscious effort to extend my less-than-ample degree of patience.

Colleen Bayus is convinced that allowing something as stupid as this to bother her can be directly correlated with the fact that she hasn’t broken her Lenten promise to sacrifice chocolate. E-mail her at cab2357@pitt.edu.