It is graduation week. Congratulations. You made it. I am very happy for you. I am. I *like* graduation week. There are banners, and flags, and best of all, there are bagpipes. I enjoy bagpipes. I encourage you to enjoy this time with you family and friends, and to mentally document the experience of sitting huddled in the rain and wind in your red plaid University-provided blanket, just so you could see so-and-so graduate as an amusing story to tell at parties and impress strangers with your devotion to your loved ones.
However: please remember that while you are prancing around in your polyester robes (which make you look, yes, very academic and clever), the majority of us still have to make it to class. And apparently many of you, and your guests, are so overwhelmed by the wonder and majesty of your achievement that you have forgotten the basic ettiquette of WALKING, choosing instead to wander corridors, the BIG OPEN COURTYARD, and every other major traffic route like stupid herds of lost sheep.
Please, for the ongoing good of the University, instruct your guests on the basic procedures of Not Walking Like a Jackass.
I don't mind having to detour around the hundreds and hundreds of plastic chairs to cross the concourse. I really don't. I can take the repeated, sporadic, and *loud* spates of cheering and clapping and disproportionately loud, feedback-spotted speechmaking that are audible from every single classroom on campus. But if you all don't stop meandering aimlessly down the main thoroughfares in two-metre-wide, arm-flailing, tittering, heavily-perfumed hordes and start adhering to some of the BASIC RULES OF PEDESTRIAN TRAFFIC, I am going to be late, and there is going to be a line of plaid-blanketed bodies stretching from here to the
The Girl Whose Hot Chocolate Your Stupid Kid Spilled Everywhere.
(*sigh* It does not matter. I am done, and now it is Thanksgiving Weekend. :D)