If you want to view paradise, simply walk around UMass and view it. I did, on the first day of spring semester. I skipped down the stairs near the health center, only to stop dead in my tracks. The entire stairway looked as if it had been hit with some sort of projectile vomit consisting of regurgitated Coca-Cola.
The smell was overwhelming. It smelled like either fermented gingerbread dough or Grandma’s cookies gone horribly wrong. To top it off, my new Steve Maddens were covered in the goo. The shoes weren’t just slightly splashed either – they looked as if they had been hit by a tidal wave. I never thought my life could be anything but catastrophe. But now it had turned into a code red crisis, involving a sticky, stinky stain that Clorox and Febreeze couldn’t remove.
“It’s that molasses again,” an upperclassman muttered. I gave him a blank stare. Molasses? Was this some sort of annual spring term prank? Little did I know, this shoe-ruining event was soon to become a daily affair.
The campus of UMass is unique. Rather than using salt to de-ice our sidewalks, we rely on a sickly sweet concoction of sugary molasses. Supposedly, this mixture is the most environmentally safe salt substitute to use when a blizzard is a-blowin’.
Using this sugary syrup keeps the grass alive and the soil pH balanced, rather than leached by the use of salt. It also keeps the ducks in the pond healthy. Personally, I think we have enough waterfowl at this university to have a campus wide game of duck hunt, complete with a game dinner afterwards, but that’s just me.
This succulent solution to slippery sidewalks seems like a plan that only a culinary school would think of, or a confectionary genius. I am convinced the university has secretly employed Mr. Willy Wonka himself, in order to keep our walks liability-free. You may have your doubts, but think about it. Don’t you ever wonder how the molasses magically appears onto the sidewalks overnight?
There’s no earthly way of knowing from where the molasses stream is flowing. That’s because it is spread in the wee hours of the morning by a band of Oompaloompas. While one Oompaloompa rides a molasses spewing-type machine, two other Oompaloompas walk behind and roll the brown goo around with Twizzlers and oversized gummy bears. In the twilight hours, our school transforms from a concrete slab of learning into a world of pure imagination – at least on the walkways.
Meanwhile, while you trudge around in the cold, you no longer have to worry about some guy smudging your Pumas. Rather, you better watch for the brown goo sloshing on your Jimmy Choos. I dropped my apple on to the sidewalk traveling uphill from the Dining Commons. It immediately transformed into something that could be sold at a concession stand at the Big E. Talk about your childhood wishes.
I’ve slipped and fallen more times trying to avoid the molasses than ice, snow, and sleet combined. Maybe it’s because I’m too busy looking for Everlasting Gobstoppers and a golden ticket. But it’s repulsive, revolting, and wrong smelling environmental friendly sludge all day long. Did you all stop to smell the walkways last Friday when the temperature passed 40? Nothing could escape the power of that odor. The candy man must have been proud.
From what I hear, this Oompaloompa process has been used successfully for several years; thus, the rollers keep on rolling and they aren’t showing any signs that they are slowing. If this process continues to work, I wouldn’t be surprised if the school turns to other confectionary wonders when the grounds need upkeep. Perhaps we will begin to spray the trees with chocolate syrup as a squirrel repellent, (they hate chocolate) or water the grass with 7-Up. Maybe some of those yellow buttercups will pop up in the spring, edible saucer included, just to make the world taste good.
If you are wise you’d listen to me. Don’t let this sticky situation drive you to Loompa Land. If you’re afraid of the little people, don’t worry. The Oompaloompas only come out in the wee hours of the morning. Just another good excuse to sleep late. En route to class, if you are so overcome by the molasses aroma that you feel like skipping your academic duties, simply repeat this inspiring phrase by Veruca Salt. “I want the world.” NOT “I want to hurl.”
Erika Lovley is a Collegian Columnist.
