Letter to the Editor

Is there a way that you can do a story on the parking situation here at
MSU?
   I have been parking behind the Fowler Bldg for a year or more now.
The police department just started to issue people tickets last week, because everyone was parking in the RESIDENCE parking.  They have plenty of
parking!!!!  When I paid the ticket, I was really upset, and the receptionist said I would need to park in the lots by the soccer field and catch the trolly. 
At 7:30 am, we hardly ever see the BUS (trolly) to pick up the lost strays who are late for class.  It took me 10 minutes just to walk down the street, before the bus said "do you need a ride!" 
Is there a way that we can bring up this issue in the paper, or where do concern students "bitch" about the parking?  How can we change it?  I believe that the RESIDENTS should use the unused parking at the testing center and leave the Fowler parking lot alone!! 
No one, especially me, who has to be at work 30 minutes after class, wants to park in BFE!  Where can we change this?  By the time this beautiful school grows to the size of UTA, the students who live OFF campus will be parking in the church lots. What can we do?!!

Concerned student,

Tiffany Lee
Senior BCIS major


Sikes Lake project comes to a Standstill
Jason Palmer | Staff Reporter

By all accounts, we should be fishing, canoeing and strolling along the docks at Sikes Lake by now.
As reported in The Wichitan at the end of last semester, TxDOT (Texas Department of Transportation) was supposed to be near the end of the $270,000 second phase of the renovation project to add four emergency call boxes, three drinking fountains, restrooms and a feeder at the mouth of the lake.
In typical TxDOT fashion, they are fashionably late on finishing.
Actually, there is no timetable for completion at all now, leaving the open-ended sewer and water connections on the future bathrooms sticking out of the ground like bones in a horror-movie cemetery.
According to a high-ranking administrator on campus, TxDOT fired the general contractor assigned to complete the project and has not hired one to finish the job yet.
That puts MSU in a bind.
We can’t move forward with our part of the deal until TxDOT is done with their part.
MSU would have stocked the lake with perch, bass and catfish and built the piers and docks.
We’ve already got the canoes for the lake, and sailboats would have been on their way.
But no.
As usual, students are going to have to sit around and be patient again while another project comes to fruition…eventually.
The sad part is, this time the university has no control over TxDOT and is stuck between a rock and a hard place.
But the blame for the unfinished goods will be another black eye on the school, falling in the same category as the poor parking layouts, the housing crunch and the Louis J. Rodriguez construction and reconstruction.
The lake project was billed as a sort of crown jewel for our campus. There aren’t many schools in the state with that kind of amenity. The only school with a prettier waterway is Texas State in San Marcos with their crystal-clear, spring-fed creek flowing through the heart of campus.
What TxDOT doesn’t realize is how much we NEED that lake to be finished. The image boost alone could make the difference in alumni and donors stepping up and forking over some much-needed revenue.
With the budget spread thinner than the last spoonful of peanut butter, we can’t spare any money to finish the bathrooms ourselves, and the state would turn their heads faster than an angry girlfriend before handing us more money.
If all else fails, the trail is great. Nice bright lights. Wide sidewalks smooth enough to rollerblade on comfortably. Ornate pavilions (sure, they lack benches at the moment) and decorative water fountains surround the trail.
Just don’t drink too much unless you are okay with peeing in the lake without the cover of bushes.

Former Floridian recounts Hurricane Life
Carolyn Knothe

As a transplanted Floridian now living in Wichita Falls, I’ve seen my share of hurricanes and tropical storms, and must say I’m relieved not to be living in Tampa right now.
After almost 80 years of very little hurricane activity hitting the Gulf Coast of Florida, this hurricane season has also pounded that area of the state.

Hurricanes are a strange weather phenomenon. With current weather technology, forecasters can attempt to predict when and where they will strike and residents have some warning.

For all of you Texans, I’ll compare it to tornadoes. You can expect them in May, but you don’t get hourly updates of one that formed over in Childress and is approaching Wichita Falls at 35 miles per hour.
Hurricanes, on the other hand, form off the coast of Africa, mosey across the Atlantic, pound poor Caribbean islands, like the Lesser Antilles or the Grenadines, and then dramatically stalk Florida, the Carolinas, and Louisiana.
When a hurricane is predicted to strike, there are usually days worth of warning. These days are filled with runs to gas stations (if the power goes out you can’t pump gas), stocking up on water bottles and canned food (the water supply might not be reliable after flooding), moving all your stuff that touches the floor onto high closet shelves, making runs to Home Depot to get plywood to board up your windows, and finally, leaving all your worldly goods and escaping to higher ground.
 The strongest storms always hit in September, after the Atlantic has had all summer to slowly warm up in temperature. I’ve missed school twice because of hurricanes; Floridian kids have “hurricane days” instead of snow days. Unfortunately, hurricane days aren’t as fun because you can’t play outside.

The days leading up to a storm are usually beautiful, if slightly windy, as the hurricane slowly draws moisture from the air and creeps towards land. The rain starts, usually lightly touching your cheek as you hurry to leave, batten down the hatches, whatever. Then the true storm arrives.

Hurricanes bring horizontal rain that feels like needles digging into your skin, and wind that tears any loose item off of trees, buildings or houses. Palm trees bend over parallel to the ground, pinecones fall out of trees, and streets overflow. Going outside during a hurricane is like getting on the tilt-a-whirl after eating a funnel cake. Just don’t do it; bad things are definitely going to happen.
More damaging than wind or rain is the flooding that hurricanes bring. You always hear about “storm surge.” This is the build-up of ocean water that “surges” over seawalls, into houses, and through storm drains into streets. I always cringe, mostly from habit, when cars go zipping through the puddles on the poorly-drained streets of Wichita Falls. In Florida, it’s likely that those puddles are made of seawater flooded up from the storm sewers, and shooting seawater up into the innards of a car is begging for corrosion.
Streets aren’t the only things that flood. My parents’ car flooded all along the floorboards; I remember watching the water slosh from one side of the backseat to the other as we drove. The car never got rid of a strange fishy smell after that incident. We were lucky that our house never flooded, as we lived on a canal. The water crept over the seawall towards us, but did no more damage than killing the grass.
So why do we live in and love Florida? Maybe it’s because we can go smell the beach whenever we feel hemmed in by the demands of life. Or maybe it’s because we like to eat oranges and grapefruit right off the tree and strawberries right off the plant. Or maybe it’s because as you freeze your toes off in February and run through the icy rain, you should call a Floridian and ask what the weather down there’s like. Guaranteed it’s 68 degrees and sunny.