by Page Forrest
Let’s play a game. It’s called “Where’s Bacchus?” Only Bacchus doesn’t have stripes or a hat, so the game’s a bit more difficult. Of course, we wouldn’t need a striped sweater to locate the roaming vans if we still had the dispatch system.
Bacchus used to be the savior of many intoxicated (or just cold) students. That was back in the good ol’ days, when you could just pull out your cell phone and call for it, assuming you had AT&T. Alas, Sewanee authorities have dispatched with the dispatch system. Now when students are in need of transport, they must wander aimlessly down University Avenue and pray to their god of choice (or lack there of) that they see the flashing yellow lights.
Of course, more than a few folks on campus have been vocal in their disapproval of the death of the dispatch system. “I mean, we got rid of the dispatch system without proper inquiry into the efficiency of it versus its competitor,” says Calvin Steinhauer method of communication. Rather, it’s the addition of a third driver for Bacchus, instead of someone operating the dispatch. The drivers have set routes, but that still doesn’t bode well for most students. With how spread out Sewanee’s Greek Housing is, the chances of encountering Bacchus on your way home, no matter which route you take, are pretty small.
If given the choice between wandering around and taking your chance at finding one of three vans, or getting to wait inside a nice warm frat house for Bacchus to come, I’d take the latter any day. So would most others, no matter how bad the spilled PBR smells. The thought of upcoming pledgeship combined with the freezing weather we’ve been dealing with recently makes me miss the dispatch even more. The dispatch is often cited as having been ineffective, but I’d rather have ineffectiveness over hypothermia. So please, bring back the dispatch. There won’t be any reward, but there will be the gratitude of more than a few students.