Do it, I dare you. Run into me one more time.
It’s a commonly known fact that here in Madison, 99 percent of kids are walking around with their noses towards their chests. The other one percent? Well, we’ll just leave them to their public displays of inaudible, sometimes creepy beginner’s French.
And there she was, the boots walked forward at a trot I’ll call brisk. Her backpack exceeded the manufacturer’s weight suggestion. Her eyes were obscured by this fantastic bright light so intriguing to her that her nose actually appeared to become a part of it. By the time these details became visible, I had fallen victim to a “bystander collision,” an epidemic that is engulfing this entire campus, one pedestrian at a time. The symptoms include rude “huffs,” bruised shoulders, curving detours every few steps, and a bad case of angry glares.
So naturally upon being bulldozed, I grabbed for my own phone and proceeded to conform to the “texter” stance. Thumbs placed on phone, both eyes on screen, yet making occasional glances to the general area in front of me to justify my actions. “What ever happened to walking?” Seven seconds to spell, three to send, and just about half of a second, give or take, for me to smash into a man waiting for the bus. (Sorry dude in the brown jacket…and for your choice of skinny jeans.)
Hypocritical is what you could call me at best, but it’s not by choice anymore. Our culture has redefined communication. It’s constant, it’s silent, it’s usually with no one in our general proximity and it makes utterly no sense. Did you notice the boy walking next to you, wearing the best cologne you have ever smelled? How about the professor whose papers just became a tornado on North Park Street? Or the gal, clearly in tears, two steps ahead of you? Sadly, no. You were looking down.
It’s simple really, and it’s called observance. But we lack it. We dismiss it. We save it for touchable screens.
Humans have this amazing ability. It is called perception. We see images, and they evoke an emotion inside of us that guides our actions—if that just sounded like a plagiarized Anthro 104 note, that’s because it is, (Bowie)—but the underlying, more relatable definition is we have this crazy ability to see. We can see the stationary sailboats along Lake Mendota, fashions of clothes, the ancient calligraphies of bored students on desks and the beautiful, and oddly inspiring, glow of Henry Mall at night. But I doubt any of you see these things—They lie beyond the realm of the lighted screen.
I cannot give punishments. I am an average nineteen year old who uses her phone between classes just as much as the lad walking at a sloth’s pace directly in front of me. What I can convey, however, is the universal truth that to experience life, you have to see it. In order to live, you need to be aware. And in order to give and participate in human interaction, a true necessity, we all need to look up.
No, it’s not time to boycott these cellular devices, but it is time to put them away for a few seconds to watch where we are going, instead of assuming the path is open. It’s time to begin to appreciate the tangibility of the world around us. Take advantage —it is not fleeting. It will not leave us after a finger press.
Hey, look up! For Buck’s sake, it’s not glued to your hand. And I’ll try my best not to crash into you either. Besides, it’s one foot in front of the other. How hard can that be?
Morgan Haefner is a freshman majoring in journalism. Please send any feedback to opinion@dailycardinal.com.
