*This article is satire, purely subjective, and should not be taken for fact or as a source of information.*
Every morning, humanity faces a singular, soul-crushing question: “How do I get there?” For the high school students, this isn’t just about getting from point A to point B. It’s a test of who you are. It’s a challenge to your dignity. And sometimes, it’s a race to see if you show up without smelling like a wet sock. After years of hard-hitting, totally scientific research (OK, I just watched people shuffle into the front entrance), here is the one true ranking of ways to get to school.
- The Chauffeur (A.K.A. Parental Uber)
This is the gold standard of commutes, the platonic ideal of arriving at school. You are delivered, like a fragile little museum artifact, directly to the front gate. The temperature inside the vehicle is precisely calibrated to your liking. You can finish last night’s homework (refer to my article, “I Said It Once, And I’ll Say It Again”), listen to your own music at a reasonable volume, or simply stare into the distance and contemplate your decision to stay up until 2:00 AM that morning reading (wait, you read…right?). There is no rain, no sweat, no shame. The only downside is the price: you must listen to your parent’s super interesting podcast about the state of the global economy they just got into. However, this is a small price to pay for not having to freeze on the bus bench in the middle of January.
- Walking (Preferably With Good Shoes)
This is the underdog of commutes—the David in Goliath’s path if you will (I hope you liked that biblical reference, Mrs. Ashleigh Tighe). It requires no schedule, no permission, and, most importantly, no money!!! It is free, it is healthy, and it gives you a sense of moral superiority over everyone else. You can listen to your own music, you get fresh air, and you build character—who else would persevere through the wrath of winter frost except for you?? But the margin for error is razor-thin. If you oversleep by three minutes, you are sprinting through a neighborhood with your backpack slapping your spine, arriving sweaty and out of breath like a fugitive from a National Geographic documentary. The key is good shoes. If you walk in fashion boots, you will be crippled by second period.
- The Bike
The bicycle is the electric scooter’s more responsible, slightly out-of-shape older sibling. It is efficient, eco-friendly, and gives you excellent calves (because I know you’re skipping leg day). You are a glorious blur of motion, passing the caged zombies with a knowing smirk. The downside is that the bike commits you to a life of minor but constant frustration. Your chain will fall off at the worst possible moment. Your seat will get wet. And when the day is over, you have to pedal back uphill, against the wind, in the rain, which God personally aims at cyclists.
- The (Magic??) School Bus
Ah, the yellow chariot of chaos (usage of “chariot” courtesy of Rick Riordan and Apollo). The bus is a floating daycare with a steering wheel. It is loud, it smells faintly of diesel and stale fruit snacks from the 4th-grade field trip two months ago, and the suspension is calibrated for maximum nausea. The schedule is a suggestion. If you miss it, you’re dead. If you’re the last stop, you spend 45 minutes watching the sun rise over the same neighborhood homes. It is the only vehicle in existence where time slows down just to make you suffer. But it is reliable, and at the end of the day, you are glad you aren’t walking.
- The Friend’s Car (But They Just Got Their License)
This is the gamble of the century. The driver just passed their test last week. The music is too loud, the car smells like air freshener and anxiety, and the driver is trying to merge into oncoming traffic while also checking their SnapScore. You might arrive five minutes early, laughing. You might also, uh, never arrive. The upside is intense loyalty; the downside is that your life is now in the hands of a person who just learned what a blind spot is. Ride at your own risk.