I Commute From … — Birmingham

By KATIE JACOB

Copy Editor

I commute from Birmingham where small-town, WASP-y values collide with edgy, hip “yuppiedom.” Yet, as it is with all Michigan cities—you can’t avoid the economy if you live here—there are abandoned buildings, empty storefronts and foreclosure signs, just like anywhere else.

It used to seem like Birmingham was a long way from Rochester but actually, OU is only a hop (down Woodward) skip (on Opdyke) and a jump (I-75) away.

Nothing much very exciting goes on unless you count the occasional (dead) deer by the side of the road (I feel sad for them, it must be confusing to have to share their space.) As I drive up hilly, tree-lined Woodward in Bloomfield Hills when everything is quiet and white, the first winter snow is magical and reminds me what a pretty state we live in. And every time I drive past the church on Opdyke I think of the man who drowned in his car at the foot of the hill in front of the church the time there was a flood.

But the worst part of my commute is finding somewhere to park at OU. I refuse to park far away. It is cold and I really don’t want to walk. If I want to exercise I will go to the gym. I circle around and around until I find a space. It is really bizarre. There is almost a society of people just like me. We pass each other, avoiding eye contact, knowing we are in a competition and hoping to catch the first open space before anyone else gets wind of it.

I have figured out that either you need to get there very early or just get there late. Sometimes, if you get there at the last minute, you can find a really good spot because students are returning to their cars from the last class.

I got a ticket last week for parking illegally because I couldn’t find a space. I will do anything not to walk. Gotta go. I’m late to work. Hope I can find a space.