Staff Writer Abbey Zhao is fed up with all these doors—they’re either too heavy, too light, with no Goldilocks zone to be found.
Blame it on being an old campus from the times before our great-great-great-grandparents, but none of these goddamn doors are consistent.
First, I’ve never been one for a push-pull door. Those are basically the only types of doors here at Columbia. I never realized how much I’d miss a revolving door. The ease. The simplicity. Most importantly, the fact that I have to put in no effort other than moving my feet. Even a turnstile is better, despite the fact that half of the time, I can’t even swipe through one correctly, and end up with a bruise along my hips.
When I come back from class, I’m not looking for another workout—I’m just desperate to get back to my dorm and take a nap or a breather. Instead, I’m stuck, hands full, trying to pull open a door that seems to weigh more than me. Heading to John Jay or Diana for a quick bite, same situation. I’m here to fuel my body, not spend its nutrients hefting open a door.
In these doors’ defense, I may be a little weak. I may have skipped arm day every so often, or perhaps always. But I’ve never had this issue before. I go to malls, bathrooms, anywhere you can imagine; I went to a high school, and before that, middle school and elementary school, and those all had doors. This shouldn’t be so strangely problematic (even though I do admit I am overreacting a little).
And then, sometimes the doors are just really light? I’m anticipating this resistance, and all of a sudden, I’m just flinging this door into some poor person’s face. If these doors are heavy, I’d at least wish they all were, just for the sake of consistency.
Also, the fact that I have to swipe in to open the doors at Columbia is infuriating. When I walk into Barnard, it’s almost a utopia—I’m through those gates, and suddenly, I barely have to show my I.D. anymore. Hamilton could never. But unfortunately, I have no classes at Barnard this semester, so I must follow the process every time. First, take out my trusty phone wallet; second, wave it frustratingly around the sensor trying to trigger it; and third, either take five times, fail, and wait for someone else to open the door for me, or anticipate a miracle. I crave the simpler days.
My final, somewhat actual, serious complaint: the accessible push buttons don’t always seem to work. I’ve never been in a circumstance where I require them, but if I ever do, needing someone else to open every door for me doesn’t seem to be a particular experience I’d look forward to. Columbia has a host of accessibility issues, and this is just one among many.
But hey, on the positive side—the times I’ve pushed a pull door, or vice versa, I can count on one hand. They sure may be heavy, but at least I know which side is which.
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