Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average Joe. It runs weekly, on Fridays. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student.

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December 6, 1996

So there I was, sittin’ on the bus with a 6-foot-10 lanky guy’s butt in my face just wishing that everyone had used Dial that day.

The main thing I’ve noticed after getting back from my nine-day week of cold-turkey-based gluttony is that a helluva lot more people are riding the bus these days.

New faces pop up every chilly day, to take a seat from one of us that has paid our dues.

Sure, there’s snow on the ground and when the breeze slips inside your jacket you swear you could cut glass with your nippies, but there seem to be quite a few not-so-fairweather fans of our mass-transit system.

This tends to create some tension between this new class of runny nosed Cy-Ride virgins and us diehard-catch-a-ride-even-if-we’re-going-two-blocks veterans.

Being a lover and not a fighter, I’ve come up with some slight alterations to our beloved buses that would cure all of these tensions.

First things first, quarter draws on the bus (with your fee card, of course) are a good initial step to increasing bussing brotherhood.

After all, we’ve got our designated drivers picked out and they’re even getting paid, although a raise may be necessary to put up with crocked commuters.

For added entertainment, we could throw Paul Wright in the back of the bus and have him play on spill-proof-mug days. He always seems to add just the right combination of musical talent and humor to any party, and he could ease those pre-exam butterflies or lift up your spirits on the ride home after a bad day of class.

He could play his normal set of songs that we’ve all come to know and love with some slight adaptations to fit the Cy-Ride atmosphere.

There are the sing-along classics like the chorus to “American Pie” …

“So, bye, bye, I’m gettin’ off of the ride, I’ll transfer to the green ’cause I live on the north side, and thanks for the beer but my glass is now dry, singin’ someday maybe I’ll get to drive, who knows someday maybe I’ll get to drive …”

Then there’s the songs we all know by heart by Jimmy Buffet, the king of beers, boats, babes and now he’s ready for the bus.

If Paul was singing the last verse of the altered version of “Margaritaville,” everyone would be sure to catch on …

“I pulled out my fee card, the driver looked real hard, it was from the wrong year, I had to walk my ass on home …”

“Riding the bus downtown to Mainastreetaville, waiting for the right corner to stop, some people say that it’s on South Duff and Main, but I know (ding ding ding ding, ding) it’s my own damn stop.”

Aside from Buffet, another sure hit with the bus-riding crowd would be an adaptation of the “Dukes of Hazard” theme that we all sang growing up …

“Just the good old bus, never turning too sharp, just a quarter and a dime for a ride, makes you stop and wonder why you’d ever want to ride anywhere in your car.”

Granted, these would in no way replace “The Train” as the official song of everyone’s favorite red and gold chariots of fun.

“They drive around to keep us going downtown, Cy-Ride is comin’ through.”

The only problem that these changes would pose is that travellers would have so much fun on the ride that they would just fly right by their stops.

People would probably forget to pull the little dinger thinger because they’re either getting another beer or they’re up on the little bus stage singing “Brown Eyed Driver Girl” with Paul.

Luckily, these are minimal complications considering the improved attitudes that everyone would have, veterans and virgins alike.

For now I’ll put off trying to implement these changes until next semester because the next two weeks are just a tad bit full.

With at least three graduation parties every night this coming week, I can see why they call it celebrate-till-all-your-brain-cells-are Dead Week.

But somehow I’ll get through it with visions of Cy-Ride sing-alongs dancing through my head.