Getting around Cambridge is impossible
Move bitch, get out the way
We all know nothing at Cambridge is easy. We pay for the privilege of being mentally battered in supervisions, but none of us signed up for the carnage that is Cambridge’s roads.
Walking to lectures after a late night in the library is miserable enough, but there’s nothing worse than having to fight your way through a throng of slow-moving tourists to get there. For those who weren’t aware, slow and steady does not in fact win the race. However, the trek to Sidgwick (or wherever scientists go all day) is nothing compared with the veritable scrum that is the centre of town.
When we applied to Cambridge, nobody told us that we would live on the fringes of the savannah, where overworked, famished adolescents prowl about the streets in search of sustenance. Making a late-night Itsu run is almost as animalistic as a 2AM rendition of Circle of Life.
Not even Sainsbury’s, purportedly every Cantab’s safe space, is immune to infuriating logjams. Self-service checkouts are one of the more irritating contraptions ever devised by engineers, but their inconvenience pales in comparison to the utterly depressing queue to use them.
People in non-central colleges have few opportunities to be smug, but surely the fact that they don’t have to fight their way to lectures on foot gives them bragging rights? Wrong (in a Donald Trump voice). Cycling is to the Cantab what a private education is to the cast of Made in Chelsea. Taking to the lawless world of Cambridge’s roads is even more difficult than navigating the pavement. You either cycle like a granny or you’re always getting stuck behind someone who does.
Also, whoever decided to build a collection of colleges on a hill deserves to be publicly shamed. You don’t know what jelly legs means until you’ve huffed and puffed your way up to Fitz at speed. I wish someone had told me that last night’s cheesy chips just don’t cut it as workout fuel.
Then, there’s the problem of parking your two-wheeled friend. Even the most fascinating lectures can be ruined by the agonising search for an available space, particularly when you arrive back at college to find out that some sly bastard has taken your preferred spot.
It’s clear though that moving slowly is better than not moving at all. Cambridge’s city planners of course spotted this and decided to install traffic lights everywhere. Time at Cambridge is precious and every dragging minute spent waiting for a little green man is like a sucker punch to the face. Even when the lights finally let you pass, you’re bound to be trapped behind someone with all the acceleration of a beached whale.
While only 21% of applicants get into Cambridge, even fewer manage to get out of our beautiful city. Anyone who’s ever braved the intrepid expedition to Cambridge station is more than qualified to conquer the south pole.
Of course you could get a taxi, but every minute you travel into town in the warm seclusion of your four wheeled steed is a VK you didn’t down, a cheesy chip you didn’t scoff or a bop you didn’t go to. Do the smart thing Cantabs, embrace the bubble. At least growling at slow-moving pedestrians is free.
So next time you’re merrily sauntering back to college after a long day, think of the Cantab striding along the road behind you in a mad rush to hand in an essay. In a superficial society, having a rockin’ pair of legs can make all the difference.
So work those legs, pedal harder, dig deeper and I promise we’ll all be happier.