For most people within the 18-21 age demographic, Saturday night is a time to unwind with friends and sip a few brews. Not so for senior Qing Ma, who spends those hours driving the ever relied-on escort shuttle.
Ma, a biomedical engineering major, used to frequent fraternity and house parties with her friends. However, that all changed last semester when she earned her shuttle certification.
"I didn't want to go to parties anymore," Ma explains. "That's actually why I chose to work the Saturday night shift. Now, I don't have to reject my friends' invitations to go out with them."
Allowing me to join her this past Saturday, Ma and I set out from the Shriver basement in van number eight, as she clutched her walkie-talkie, cell phone and 7-11 coffee.
"Apparently, there's a Phi-Mu formal tonight," Ma said, looking toward me with a smile. "Should be an exciting night, huh?"
"10-9, van eight pick-up at Charles Commons" (10:30 p.m.)
I scan the radio dial to 97.9 FM, sending vibrant alternative rock beats through the van's speakers, as Ma nods accordingly.
"That's usually the station I like to listen to," she said. "I get pretty bored if the music isn't up-beat enough. It keeps me awake too, which is definitely a good thing."
Within a few minutes, the Charles Commons residents climb into the back seat. The two costumed passengers talk aimlessly amongst one another as Ma obliviously drives toward the Cresmont Lofts.
"Hey, maybe there's something going over there tonight," I asked, as we headed back toward North Charles Street.
"Oh, maybe," Ma said, inattentively. "When I first started working this shift, I used to be interested in where all the parties were taking place. After a while, the excitement faded, and now it's just a job."
"10-9, 7-11 pick up by Sig Ep" (11 p.m.)
As the van pulls into an angled parking spot in front of 7-11, it narrowly misses colliding with the adjacent Dodge Neon.
"John Hopkins, what the f--k," mouthed the dreadlocked Dodge owner, as he glanced at the van's side insignia.
Quickly, Ma engaged the van's automatic locking system, before sighing as the Neon zoomed onto West 29th Street.
"I always stop here for coffee, in the middle of my shift," Ma explained. "Every time, I come here or go over to the 7-11 on Greenmount, I get kind of scared.
Meanwhile, a horde of freshmen newly armed with Slur-pees and candy piled into the van's back seat and immediately let their presence be known.
"Man, there's nothing to do tonight," one of the more vocal passengers said, as he buckled himself into the backseat and adjusted a faded Red Sox hat. "Can you take us to AMR II?"
"Dude, what was that screaming all about in that girl's room?" the Texas Longhorns-clad physics major said, recounting the previous night's events. "Anyways, I kind of want to study tonight."
"F--- that, we are drinking tonight," the overly confident Bostonian retorted. "Or at least drinking for a few hours. Then we'll study."
Ma anxiously checks her cell-phone as the passengers return to their dormitories.
"When I first started, I liked to listen in on all the stupid conversations that I would hear," Ma said. "In a way, I would hold court with my friends, revealing every single drunken event that took place in my backseat the previous night. That excitement has definitely faded."
"Shuttle girl, take us to Fiji!" (12:20 a.m.)
"Come on, shuttle girl, race this van to your right," said one of the anxious frat party crashers before turning to his friend. "Trust me, we can get into this one. I have the connections."
As the aroma of hard liquor senselessly mixed with freshly-smoked marijuana fills the air of the van, Ma quickly adjusts the radio volume so as to block out the backseat's rendition of Guantanamera.
"When they're drunk, especially, I try not to listen to what they say," Ma said. "I just hope they do nothing stupid, like puke all over me. A lot of other drivers have dealt with that kind of thing."
She smiles and nods, as the carefree passengers prepare to bust into a supposedly closed mixer party. Meanwhile, she waves to a slightly disoriented friend of hers, who drives the Wednesday shift, walking toward the frat house.
"Hey, can I really please get to Superfresh?" he said, before revealing a handle of Smirnoff. "I'm just fooling you. I'm straight!"
As he turns to head into the fraternity house, she chuckles.
"All the other shuttle drivers know that I work this shift and they like to try to show me what I'm missing out on," she said. "Well, on Wednesday nights, I always know who to call for a free ride and he'll be sorry!"
