Why students should walk around in ponchos all day March 20, 2011 — by Jackie Gu and Aashna Mukerji It’s a bird! No, it’s a plane. No, wait, it’s a flying rodent festering with disease and liquid feces. Oh wait. That’s a bird. It’s a bird! No, it’s a plane. No, wait, it’s a flying rodent festering with disease and liquid feces. Oh wait. That’s a bird. It’s the end of lunch, and most students would like nothing better than to take a leisurely stroll through the quad to their next class. But alas, this cannot be, thanks to the avian dwellers of Saratoga High who take it upon themselves to wreak havoc upon all who dare cross their path, which unfortunately includes every student who ever ventures outdoors. The end-of-lunch bell triggers a Pavlovian response from every winged creature within a 100-yard radius. They swoop down with a vengeance from every angle, having lurked in the corners of the quad rooftops for the entirety of lunch, waiting for their meal. This unfortunate scene repeats itself every day without fail, but the outcome is inevitable. Unless people finally decide to start using the trash cans instead of the nearest flower bed to dispose of their trash (unlikely), these scavengers will continue to infest our campus for years to come. Aside from birds, however, there are plenty of other dangers from the sky to be aware of. For instance, whenever it rains, students become the inadvertent victims. Despite the many well-intentioned overhangings located around the school, such as outside the journalism room or in between the 600 and 800 buildings, steady streams of water still manage to soak students thoroughly on their way to class. The fortunate ones are only drenched from ankle down, thanks to the giant puddles that seem to materialize spontaneously in the middle of protected hallways. The unfortunate ones, however, get to look like they just showered in dirty gutter water. In order to avoid these steady streams, make sure to keep your eyes open when turning corners—use a mirror if you have to. The birds are truly the most bothersome in the realm of dangers from above. The worst part, though, is not their mere existence—students could handle it fine if the birds would skulk quietly instead and just keep to themselves—but no, they choose to swoop down at the same time and unleash their primal offerings all at once. That hundred feet or so across the quad sure seems a lot farther when you are attacked by flying vermin every step of the way.