A few years ago, I stood on the corner outside Quincy House waiting for the spring break Undergraduate Council shuttle to the airport. With me were the Dins eager to start their tour and a few other students who wanted to make the most of their $20 council fee. As the minutes ticked by, we peered anxiously down Mt. Auburn street, shifting weight from one foot to the other ever more quickly and glancing every few seconds at our watches because every moment feels like an hour when you have a plane to catch. Fortunately, I had a late flight and had plenty of time. The Dins were not so lucky. After half-an-hour they bolted for the T (and I with them), and barely made their flight.

This winter break I decided to try again. After all, the elections had just been held and I figured that this was a new council, with a Bill of Rights which guaranteed us a responsible student government and better student services, with visionary leaders who wouldn't leave a busload of students standing out in the cold. However, I left myself an extra hour, just in case. By the time my sister and I arrived Johnston gate at around 4 p.m., about 20 students were already waiting for the 4:15 shuttle. We waited. And waited. It began to rain. Gradually our group dwindled as students disappeared into the subway tunnels or, if their situation were more pressing, into cabs. Around 5 p.m., my sister and I gave up and hopped on the T which came almost immediately. On the blue line we found ourselves sitting across from another Harvard student who asked us why we were so wet. "Ah yes," he nodded knowingly when we told him. "My roommate tried that last year." --Scott A. Rifkin '97