The Commuter Scene: Not Your Typical Banter

Photo Cred: Karyn Danforth

“I went to an abandoned highway the other day,” said a student sitting on the bench of a table, as she leaned back onto the brick wall of the Student Center. “Oh I've been there!” piped up another sitting next to her. Conversing about spray painting words and objects, more commonly known as tagging, every person within a fifteen foot radius listened, fitting in their two cents when deemed necessary. “My brother would tag Optimus Prime's head on a tank everywhere,” said the jokester of the group, and an upheaval of laughter echoed against the building.

This is how friendships transpire; it begins with a mere question, statement, or just a hello. Underneath the columnized man-made shade resides three tables, and during the course of a class ridden day students come and go, seeking shelter as they study, smoke a cigarette, or start a conversation. Those who sit outside of the Student Center are not always acquainted with one another, but are open to sharing stories.

The cement patio has come alive with the forthcoming of pleasant weather, and as the white petals of the nearby trees flutter onto the pavement, sociability emerges.
While many commuters decide to drive home during breaks, others would rather be frugal travelers and save money by staying, finding time in between the constant bustling back and forth to class to take a rest and rehabilitate themselves in or outside of the epicenter of campus activities. It's a laid back atmosphere, an easy going culture.

Sitting at the middle table with an orange locker key, a copy of Tuesdays With Morrie, and his computer, Ross Martowski is a sophomore from Westbrook, Connecticut. For him, sitting outside gives him time to smoke his tobacco pipe and work on assignments. From pipes, coffee, cigarettes, newspapers, laptops, and even hookahs, these are all items generally found at the tables.

“I get more compliments from smoking rather than dirty looks,” says Martowski about his pipe. “I do get the occasional old lady staring me down.” Explaining how hookahs look sinister in the eyes of passerbys, he said, “They immediately think weed, but it's hashish.”



Don't let your ears nor eyes be fooled by the simple, fun conversations, or by the eclectic way many of the students dress who frequent the area. These students get serious. Martowski unleashed what has been grinding his gears.

“The attitude at Central is very business-like,” he said, in between puffs from his pipe. “The majority are taking care of business, doing their work, and clocking out at the end of the day.”

Martowski was one of several students on this specific Thursday afternoon that had a general distaste of the environment that Central currently encapsulates. “I don't like society today, so caught up in the issues. Everything is too strict,” senior Steve St. John said. Pointing towards the library, Martowski added, “There's a state trooper over there, and it gives me the feeling of being harassed, that it's no fun to be on campus.”

While both students referenced the situation to George Orwell's 'Big Brother', and spoke of how it takes only a few complaints to make a law, but to question or tear down a law takes thousands. “It's so unbalanced,” said Martowski.

The cop car comes rolling past the grassy middle mall between the Student Center and the dining commons, Memorial Hall. “I mean, look at that,” said Martowski. “Is that not intimidating?”

Everyone at the table agreed this is why Central is all business. If it weren't for all of the absurd regulations on campus (for example, the 'no skateboarding' rule stereotypes skaters as delinquents) and student organizations mishandling the way they spend their money, Martowski believes we'd receive more than 'middle school fair-like' events.

Instilled with the knowledge of how Central's campus was in the 1970's, Martowski mentioned the fact that inside the Student Center, the game room Breakers used to be a bar. “A bar is a more sociable scene, I would have rather went to school back then. It should still be a wet campus,” he stated firmly.

As St. John and Martowski bounced thoughts off of one another, a fantastic idea began to emerge. Both students agreed that CCSU needs to promote safe drinking in order to combat the sketchy practices that many students pursue secretively.

“They should have a monitored event on campus,” said Martowski. For most students, having embarrassing drunken photos with alcohol products held tightly in their hands on Facebook are a no-no, and are generally buried to uphold their self image. “I think it'd be the same on campus, it's not like you'd see students walking around with it.” he said.

“Just as it gets nice, I have to go to work soon,” sighed St. John, who must leave shortly for Elihu Burritt Library, where he has been working for over a year. “It means there'll be less people there, so there won't be as much to do.”

No matter, Martowski is still on a tangent. As he constantly puts his hoodie on and takes it off again (“I get cold, then I get warm”) he justifies his words, saying, “You know, I'm not just sitting here spacing out when I'm smoking my pipe.”

“The campus put itself in a position for students not to get involved,” he said. “At the end of the day, it's a business, catering to the parents, not the students.”

Explaining that the rules need to be cracked at the state level in order for things to change at Central, Martowski gave an anecdote about participating in Connecticut's very first global marijuana march on May 2nd. “People in this state are getting tired of regulations,” he said while checking his e-mail.

Something Martowski reads stops the current discussion and thus begins another: Professor Ragavan, an International Films teacher, had sent an e-mail regarding Martowski's constant effort to create a Film Club. After having a difficult time all semester due to strict enforced rules involving the creation of clubs, Ragavan was going to see to it that Martowski begins it, no matter what.

Going under the radar, Martowski acquired the use of the Africana Center to view movies. Told to begin with controversial films, Ragavan advised him to make posters (with 'not recognized as a club' at the bottom, as to not get in trouble) and with that, a table discussion erupted on what film Martowski should choose first. “Requiem for a Dream,” said one. “American History X,” said another. “The curb-stomp is terrifying.” Another table behind us overhears this and begins a discussion on curb-stomping.

Students aren't the only ones to be found here; sometimes professors kick back for a little bit before going about their business. “An older math professor comes around and smokes cigarettes while talking to us every so often,” said Martowski. “He talks about drugs he did in the 1960's and fits math into every conversation. He's a fun guy to talk to.” Thinking about how the guy is an accomplished, intelligent professor brings Martowski back to the problems with rules.

“I have a friend in the Education Department, and if they're even suspected of drugs, they are reprimanded or kicked out,” he said. “That doesn't solve problems, it doesn't seem right. Shows how times have changed over the course of 30 years.”

It doesn't seem as if Martowski knows this for sure, but all thoughts are considered sitting shoulder to shoulder to one another on a bench.

St. John, rather silent during the majority of Martowski's statements, wrapped up the discussion in a lyric by Jimmy Buffett. “If we weren't all crazy, we'd just all go insane,” he said.

This is Central's Greek chorus.

As two students from a class walked over to measure the columns of the Student Center's awning, the group at the middle table began to laugh at Martowski's ideas of getting reactions out of police; it was back to 'business' as usual: silly, fun conversations.

“What would a cop think of pulling someone over who had a handlebar mustache and a pipe, blaring classical music out of their car?” he laughed. “That would be great.”