I hate getting lost. Nothing irritates me more than driving fruitlessly in circles, desperately trying to find my destination. This is why I never set off for an unfamiliar location without a printout from MapQuest, one of my virtual best friends. Sure, MapQuest may occasionally play nasty tricks on me and send me into cul-de-sac hell, but generally it's a godsend. I love not having to rely on the well-intentioned but imprecise directions of friends: "Go two or three miles, and then turn left by the blue house with the cute garden gnomes." If I had the money, I'd invest in one of those onboard GPS systems. They're pricey, but I think the peace of mind would be worth it. I only wish there was some sort of navigational device available for the UCD campus.
There are days when I wonder if the entire campus isn't under some sort of architectural witness protection program. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time looking for things that ought to be easily located. Recently I spent time wandering through the North Classroom building, searching for the computer lab. I knew it existed, as I had been there before with friends. There was no mention of it on the directory, though, and as I wandered up and down the halls I started to think that maybe I had hallucinated the whole thing, or that the entire lab had been abducted by aliens as part of some murky, "X-Files"-style conspiracy. No need to call Mulder and Scully - I finally found the lab, and I was as giddy as Sir Edmund Hillary must have been when he conquered Everest. Victory is mine! Round up the sherpas, and break out the vodka - we're going to party!!
North Classroom isn't the only building that needs a little design help. The Tivoli, as beautiful as it is, is one confusing mish-mash of hidden wings and illogical architecture. I love the upper-level conference rooms that can only be accessed by one set of elevators, and the shock of discovering a business that's been hiding right under your nose. Two entire semesters passed before I realized the Tivoli housed a movie theater; once I knew it existed, I still had to search diligently to find it. Call me crazy, but this hardly seems like a good strategy for attracting customers. It makes me wonder what other secrets the Tivoli has yet to divulge.
The ultimate mystery of UCD, however, is the Auraria Library. Much like the Tivoli, it features a confusing layout that makes me think the architect was some sort of student-hating sadist. The first floor is simple enough, but climb the stairs and you'll find yourself in some sort of alternate universe. It's a regular Bermuda Triangle up there, and if you stay long enough you'll probably find everything from wrecked aircraft to Jimmy Hoffa's body. I swear I once saw Josh Holloway and Evangeline Lilly wandering aimlessly; I think the entire cast of "Lost" is actually stranded in the stacks somewhere on the second floor.
If you insist on venturing inside I recommend leaving a trail of bread crumbs to help you find your way back, and keeping a watchful eye out for Dr. Livingstone. Livingstone is the maintenance man who haunts the reference section; apparently he came to repair something in the late '80s and was never able to escape. If you see him, be sure to smile, wave and tell him he's doing a great job. Don't ask for directions, though; that really ticks the old guy off.
I feel your pain, Livingstone.




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