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I The heat was stifling as I rushed across campus trying to reach my car before the dreaded Cushmanites. There were only about 30 seconds left on my five-minute meter, and I knew that these nomads, USC's chosen people, were about to raise their murderous staffs over my helpless Ford Maverick and make a curious green slip appear between the windshield and the wiper blade. My morning statistics class was already on its fifth parking meter break, and fellow classmates were also rushing to aid their vehicles. I quickly stopped by change-stand number four and obtained the needed currency. Mlf tlinn I" ' " v.01 was in &igm now, ana 1 had just broken into a dead run for it when the air was suddenly filled with a multitude of screaming sirens and horns. I stopped abruptly on the curb, and gazed with amazement at a strange procession making its way up Green Street. LEADING THE pack were three lire trucks, complete with dalmations, followed by a dozen or so police cars full of uniformed officers. Then came four trucks of SWAT teams and three black limousines, whose doors bore the inscription, 'Important Administration Officials.' Bringing up the rear were four Soviet-made r* 1 - isusnman lanxs. The noise was almost unbearable as this procession turned into the library parking lot, tires screeching and sirens blaring. What an event, I thought to myself. What could it be? A bomb threat? Terrorists? A student refusing to pay his overdue book fines? Disregarding my unfortunate car, which had already been attacked by Cushmanites, I ran up the street and observed the scene from across the reflecting dooI Occupants of the vehicles were jumping out and beginning to surround the library. Many of the enforcers were armed with pistols, machine guns and flame throwers. A rotund policeman embraced a megaphone, his attention focused on a lone figure perched on the 1 library roof. CAREFULLY DODGING the J Pnchmnn r? A- * "* '* 1 uudiuiiaii i 1-duhuj pairoiung tne ' reflecting pool, I rushed toward the 1 library to get a better view of the Pf I /ny Jon situation, which had now drawi several hundred spectators. "What's going on?" I asked i red-faced administration official "My God. man. this is th<? ?*iH ' he cried. "Some student up then on the roof has explosives wired U. all of the parking meters anc parking lots and is threatening tc blow them to kingdom come, unless . . The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the rotund officer, who was now shouting into the megaphone "Come on down Johnny ? we've got you covered. Give it up before it's too late." I LOOKED toward the roof. There stood a skinny, bespectacled young man surrounded by what must have be$p a few thousand wires. He had the look of a wild man as he yelled back, "You won't get me, coppers.' You dirty rats, you ticketed my brother!" "Why is he so upset?" I asked the sobbing administration official. "I don't know," lamented the frightened man. "He keeps saying that he can't take it anymore." With that statement, I realized that with Johnny, the parking division of USC was encountering its first mental case. An ally of all students was perched on that rooftop. He had decided to take matters into his own hands. And even though the means taken were rather niltrflffpniic kuv IIUIIU1CUS OI students below were cheering him on. You had to admire the guy ? he had the university's financial future in his hands. The burning problem of higher education, 'Why Johnny Can't Park," was going to be examined here and now. "LET ME GO up and talk to him," I begged an officer. "I'm a reporter and you know these guys always want to talk to reporters. I know what he's going through, and I think I might be able to improve your situation." The officer hesitated for a moment, then nodded his head and spoke into the megaphone once again. "Johnny, a reporter here wants to talk to you. We're going to send him up, O.K.?" Johnny peered over the ledge at me and then answered. "All right coppers, send him up, but no funny susiness or the meters and lots 50." Tu;n nffinoiw -J ' ** ? ?w vinvvio cocui tCU 1X16 10 (flC UNIT n- COMMU7 STUPENT SIGHTED I LOT n? ALL UNIT'. CONVERGE? HAND ,Vg?' A j y mm lTIRE BY BARRY J.GI i edge of the building and a ladder was positioned against the side oi i the library. I ascended slowly and finally pushed myself over the top. ' I was taken aback by what lay : before me. > I THERE STOOD Johnny at the > controls of a panel supplied with , dozens of switches. Streaming out of this console were thousands of s wires, all running off the edge of , the building. As I surveyed the ! campus from this high vantage i _______ \ I I I J / \ 55 / \ <D / V :_4 * i j i?--i iwiiu, i couiu see uiai irom the library, the wires extended in every direction as far as the eye could see. "Hello Johnny, what's all this?" I asked and took a step forward. "Stay back or it all goes," cried the young man. "This," he said with a proud gleam in his eye, "is what I have been working on for two years. From this point, I have every meter wired with a stick of ? !_ A ?? ? - dynamite. /\ii 01 tne parking lots have a ton of dynamite under them. This panel contains sensors that tell me if anyone is trying to cut the wiring. So if any one of these lights goes on, I'll know, and I'll blow every meter and lot from here to kingdom come with the flick of a switch. Pretty smart, huh?" "JOHNNY, WHY are you doing this?" I asked. "I couldn't stand it anymore," he cried. "In my three years at this university, my parking tickets have always cost more than my tuition. I tried evervthinc " .Tnhnnv sat down and the tears began to well up in his eyes as he continued. "Eveiytime I would park would mean a ticket. My first semester, I /NOV 'N ds\j) I RID *h** *3 raraHBHkUGQ33 4/ v * - i 't r>a rlr A. u XXe vENN > used to drive on campus and would eventually skip class because I I couldn't find a parking place. But my grades became so bad, 1 had to Hn cnmofhino 6n f ofort<ul nnntry?M uv uuiiivwiiiig. uv m. oral ivu pal ivillg. "First it was the $10 tickets for parking with an even-numbered sticker in an odd-numbered lot. 1 Then the Cushmanites learned what my car looked like and began to ticket it for everything ? parking beside a bottle, parking without my emergency brake on. I took cans of paint and tried to paint the word 'reserved' on all my spaces. Then last semester my younger brother entered school, ^ and they began to ticket him too. j "SO I resorted to this. I spent six hours a night secretly rigging up these explosives. Last night I finished and climbed up here. And now, if they don't meet my demands and institute free parking, nobody will be able to park. Nothing else will work." I reflected on what Johnny had said. He was right ? nothing had worked. The president's five-year Carolina Plan to export student vehicles to regional campuses had nn( uinflro/l J A iiv v n vi n^u? lUCCIll^f ^ SlUUt^IllS would have been able to park their cars at one of the regional campuses and then take a bus to Columbia. But students standing around waiting for buses and playing Monopoly on Green Street had resulted in 10 deaths alone, and the , fights to board the buses were so \ bloody that the plan was scrapped < forthwith. ; LAST YEAR'S parachute plan , ran into trouble because of student inexperience. Students were landing in bedrooms, stadiums and chimneys. The administration decided to scrap the plan because "the students of Carolina seemed to have no direction to their lives." Commuting by horseback had ' uui wuiivcu eiuier. ine campus , soon resembled Dodge City, and the Cushmanites began issuing tickets to manure if it was left standing for more than ten | minutes. "Johnny," I said in a serious tone, "I admire what you are doing, but it will never work. Both of us know that this university derives 95 percent of its revenue from parking fines. If you blow up everything, they'll just rebuild and import more Cushmanites to regulate the new meters and lots. r thatsA fa" .^1 ICULOUSl J I xou SEE ?Kj-?^ \THt JETSJ ^ 0 I Johnny, this isn't the '60s ? 3 ft irlnn fo (ii/vmU a ? oiuuuiia wuu i uatR you on U11S. They don't care. Give it up, O.K.?" A COMMOTION from down below drew our attention. An anxious looking woman and a priest were making their way to the front of the throng. "Ma!!" Johnny cried. "Johnny, dear, please come on down," the woman pleaded. "The police have agreed to ease up on restrictions and cut your fines in half." "Come on Johnny," I urged, and we made our way toward the ladder. Suddenly there was a loud bleep, and we turned around to see a light flashing on the console. Johnny shrieked and pointed at the parking lot. "Look! Look! They're ticketing my car!!!" SURE ENOUGH, two Cushmanites had moved in for the kill on a 1971 Pinto. "That's it. Goodbye world!" Johnny screamed, and pushed me across the roof. Just as I dived for cover there was a tremendous explosion. After about 30 seconds I cautiously looked up. All that was left of Johnny was a pair of shoes and about a hundred unpaid traffic tickets which were slowly floating to the ground in bits and pieces like so much confetti. Enraged, I climbed down and accosted the vice president of parking affairs. "You fooli" t cried. "He was giving up. Why did you have to ticket his car?" THE CUSHMANITES were becoming restless," he answered calmly. "Besides, we needed the revenue for a faculty cocktail party being held in the ballroom tonight. The university is saved." And with that, he marched off. I slipped away and headed for my car. But it wasn't there. The Cushmanites had discovered a new form of warfare ? towing. Another war had just begun. gamecock Founded 1908 Mark J. Lundgren Editor in Chief Don Fobes News Editor Skot Garrick Entertainment Editor Mike Hunt Sports Editor Barbara Mathews Copy Desk Chief Lynn Shook Photography Editor Jill Griffin Advertising Manager Jon Clemmensen General Manager Sam McKee Business Manager Karen Wooten Production Manager The r- -- ...v ^oMinui-rweitomes letters from its readers. Letters should be a maximum of 300 words and must be signed with the writer's correct name. Pseudonyms or other aliases are not acceptable, but the writer's name will be withheld if requested and circumstances warrant. Please include the telephone number and mailing address where you can be reached to assist us in verifying the identity of the writer. Also, include class standing and major. 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