Chapter One:
"Where are you from; Where are you going?"
Umbrella clasped tightly in hand,
keeping my head down, watching my feet move with each step as mud and water squish beneath my feet, and slightly hypnotized by the black and white pattern of my rain boots, I “climb” across the drill field hoping, rather desperately, to make it to the awaiting Tom’s Creek Bus B before it pulls away from Burruss Hall. I’m not the only one making the journey, many students are boarding different buses when I make it across the street, quickly jumping over a steady stream of water and onto the firm, concrete sidewalk. Clumsily closing my umbrella, I slide it under my arm and reach for the wristlet to find my Hokie passport. Rifling through dining receipts, ticket stubs, and a few cards, I am eventually greeted with my own smiling, slightly tanner face, and pulling the identification card from my bag; I step aboard the bus. Flashing a smile and the card to the driver, he acknowledges my entrance as well as other students with a nod while resembling something of a bobble head. Slightly dumbfounded by my luck of catching the bus so easily, I can feel and hear the not so soft hum of the engine vibrating below my feet as I walk across the muddy bus floor and a gust of chilly air whips through the opened doors behind me pushing further back. Causing both a compulsive shiver down my spine and an eye watering sting as the jaw like doors allow yet another passenger in; yet another person to take up space. Of course, there were no seats when I got in, so standing or rather scrunched back to back, front to front, hand to hand, backpack to backpack, I grip the overhead bar for dear life as the bus makes an abrupt jolt to life as it pulls away from the sidewalk of Burruss Hall. Looking around, it’s a sea of Northface fleeces and a rainbow of Uggs. Some chat amicably through chapped lips and rosy cheeks while others seem to be turning their iPods up just a little louder, clutching scarves more tightly around their necks.
Today is the first of my many days aboard the Blacksburg Transit for observations. Conveniently as it is, I rely on the bus to get to the math emporium on a weekly basis so I’ve come to see it as “killing two birds with one stone”. I’ve been aboard the bus approximately three or so minutes, and immediately I am overwhelmed with observations: sensory overload; people, people, and well, more people. Loud people. Crunched against an oversized book bag, and in the unfortunate position of facing someone’s raised sweaty arm, I begin to wonder why we all ride this bus; why we put ourselves through this ultimate torture of being so squished and smushed and pushed against other people. And even after only a few minutes, I will admit, I’ve already judged a few and dismissed a few others; I was intimidated by some and amused by others. My judgments are so quick and definite giving no reprieves or reconsiderations, and I wonder why? Who am I do judge; am I being judged? Stricken by these thoughts, I begin to examine what this ethnography is all about, and as this assignment has asked for the student to address and assess their own culture in respect to the place they have chosen and propose questions and biases about this place, I have already drawn this conclusion: I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, an artist, a talker, a shopper, a reader, a Christian, a complete fan of eating ice cream, and an undecided and free college student. Am I different from anyone else on that bus? Do our final destinations matter? Does the way we dress, talk, or act make someone better or any different from another? Who rides this bus and why do they ride this bus? Are some nervous like me? And ultimately, does my background, culture, and biases actually matter? I see this bus system as a channel of never ceasing movement of people coming and going, and as our lives coincide, I see it as an opportunity to hopefully understand the many cultures and backgrounds of my fellow peers, teachers, and faculty. And ultimately, I hope to answer the most important question: what truly unites us; what is our culture both on a surface level and a deeper level.
Still thinking and assessing my life and its relevance to this project, I see even now, within my second semester at Virginia Tech, I am already the typical college student: broke and carless but happy and of course, free. Dressed on most days in baggy sweatpants, a t-shirt, and my hair slung up in messy ponytail, I am lucky to make it to class on time and even luckier to be early. Despised in elementary school, naps have now become my favorite past time-everyday without fail. Five fifteen, yoga class to find my uncoordinated yet very centered “chi” and then an all at sprint to D2 for dinner where I can’t help but find my true inner soul: food. My life is undeniably different than ever before, and I certainly wasn’t prepared to rely on a bus for practically everything including to get to the emporium, to go grocery shop, to go shopping, to go to the movies, basically to escape this campus at all, and there is much to learn when riding the bus and much to learn from riding the bus. And with that thought, the bus makes an abrupt stop, swinging my body forward with such recklessness, I elbow the girl in front of me tripping quite dramatically over my fallen umbrella and the book bag sitting at my feet. Recovering from my fall, I stand once again, and I look around at all the people aboard the bus on this cool, rainy afternoon. And I decide to take this time to observe the passengers around me.
Today is the first of my many days aboard the Blacksburg Transit for observations. Conveniently as it is, I rely on the bus to get to the math emporium on a weekly basis so I’ve come to see it as “killing two birds with one stone”. I’ve been aboard the bus approximately three or so minutes, and immediately I am overwhelmed with observations: sensory overload; people, people, and well, more people. Loud people. Crunched against an oversized book bag, and in the unfortunate position of facing someone’s raised sweaty arm, I begin to wonder why we all ride this bus; why we put ourselves through this ultimate torture of being so squished and smushed and pushed against other people. And even after only a few minutes, I will admit, I’ve already judged a few and dismissed a few others; I was intimidated by some and amused by others. My judgments are so quick and definite giving no reprieves or reconsiderations, and I wonder why? Who am I do judge; am I being judged? Stricken by these thoughts, I begin to examine what this ethnography is all about, and as this assignment has asked for the student to address and assess their own culture in respect to the place they have chosen and propose questions and biases about this place, I have already drawn this conclusion: I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, an artist, a talker, a shopper, a reader, a Christian, a complete fan of eating ice cream, and an undecided and free college student. Am I different from anyone else on that bus? Do our final destinations matter? Does the way we dress, talk, or act make someone better or any different from another? Who rides this bus and why do they ride this bus? Are some nervous like me? And ultimately, does my background, culture, and biases actually matter? I see this bus system as a channel of never ceasing movement of people coming and going, and as our lives coincide, I see it as an opportunity to hopefully understand the many cultures and backgrounds of my fellow peers, teachers, and faculty. And ultimately, I hope to answer the most important question: what truly unites us; what is our culture both on a surface level and a deeper level.
Still thinking and assessing my life and its relevance to this project, I see even now, within my second semester at Virginia Tech, I am already the typical college student: broke and carless but happy and of course, free. Dressed on most days in baggy sweatpants, a t-shirt, and my hair slung up in messy ponytail, I am lucky to make it to class on time and even luckier to be early. Despised in elementary school, naps have now become my favorite past time-everyday without fail. Five fifteen, yoga class to find my uncoordinated yet very centered “chi” and then an all at sprint to D2 for dinner where I can’t help but find my true inner soul: food. My life is undeniably different than ever before, and I certainly wasn’t prepared to rely on a bus for practically everything including to get to the emporium, to go grocery shop, to go shopping, to go to the movies, basically to escape this campus at all, and there is much to learn when riding the bus and much to learn from riding the bus. And with that thought, the bus makes an abrupt stop, swinging my body forward with such recklessness, I elbow the girl in front of me tripping quite dramatically over my fallen umbrella and the book bag sitting at my feet. Recovering from my fall, I stand once again, and I look around at all the people aboard the bus on this cool, rainy afternoon. And I decide to take this time to observe the passengers around me.
