You have a quarter of a mile walk back to your dorm, Straz Tower, from class. There isn't a whole lot going on in that quarter mile. Perhaps you could get hit by a car at one of the two intersections with working traffic lights, or maybe observe a law-abiding citizen getting pulled over as you look down from the interstate overpass. Chances are, not a whole lot will be going on … especially on a glorious Friday morning. I will soon take that comment back and I promise to make it clear to you why.

You see, there is a low part of the road at the end of the overpass. Like any overpass, in the event of an oncoming object, there's not a whole lot of places you could go to protect yourself. Well, I guess you could somehow scramble over the side of the curved chain link fence into interstate traffic or … right. Do you get my drift?

So, we were talking about that low part at the end of the overpass. When it rains or snows, the low part of the overpass becomes like the sixth Great Lake. It has no bottom. You can't see to the other side. Some people mistakenly call it Lake Michigan. Some exchange students have even said that they thought Milwaukee was on the coast of Lake Michigan, not on the Pacific Coast. To any end, it is this gross body of water, usually filled with garbage and raw sewage, that bus drivers find it hilarious to cruise through at dangerous speeds.

Now, I don't know what it is about it. I'm not a bus driver. Maybe it gives them the feeling of jet skiing or being the star of a James Bond movie? We don't really know. One thing we do know, is that like all heros, everyone has their tragic flaw. I've theorized that for bus drivers, it's the inability to see pedestrians (or Marquette students clad in Columbia gear) walking down the sidewalk, especially on the southeast side of the interstate 43 overpass after heavy precipitation.

On second thought, I take that back. I guess since the sixth Great Lake forms there, they aren't really at fault when they do their little no-hands-on-the-wheel-superman stunt. Even if it was a clear day and they could see to the other side, the plume of water shooting out all directions from under their bus would effectively impair their vision from seeing innocent human beings cowering on the sidewalk.

I was one of those victims. I was one of those unlucky souls left bewildered as I was showered with cold and wet. I had to stop afterwards to remember where I was. Was I really on a college campus in Wisconsin? Or was I at Sea World visiting the Shamu exhibit? No! Only in Milwaukee could the sun be shining down on someone soaked with black, filthy water.

I am left speechless here as I'm sure you would be too. What can I say that actually will put a smiley face band-aid on the issue? Do me a favor, while I'm still trying to think of an answer (and mind you, after I get the water out of my ears), when you see me on campus, simply tell me I just got back from Sea World. Hopefully by the time I get my wits back, I'll be at peace with the fact that even though I'm proud of myself and my achievements, to some in the world, I'm just another one of those Marquette students.

Ivers is a sophomore in the College of Communication.