Emily Garrett | Caught in the paper crossfire

Thursday morning I strolled to class down lovely Locust Walk. I waved to a friend here and there, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Then it happened.

I was stopped dead in my tracks by a sad, pathetic-looking little boy. He was about six or seven, shirtless and malnourished, looking at me with big watery eyes. I tried to maneuver around the starving child, but this sneaky bugger blocked my path once again.

By this point, I was getting a little annoyed. "Hey, I just want to go to class," I pleaded. Finally, with a little shove and some crafty footwork, I escaped his heartbroken gaze.

This uncomfortable encounter was repeated not once, not twice, but three times that day.

Now before you start sending this heartless wench a bunch of nasty e-mails, let me explain. I was not actually approached by a naked, starving little boy last week. However, I was accosted by fellow students on Locust Walk who all but demanded that I volunteer time or donate money to save the aforementioned child.

Don't get me wrong. Unlike many of my classmates, I enjoy the flyering on Locust Walk. It's like a huge buffet of social events. I'm usually good natured and will gladly fill my plate with flyers for ethnic dance shows and sorority fundraisers.

Locust Walk is useful because all students know that any campus event they might want to attend will likely be advertised on the way to class. Flyers for dance shows, parties, music concerts, political and academic speakers and charity fundraisers are all found on the Walk.

On most days, I will kindly pretend that I might go to your event. I've been there. I've hollered about events to students who don't care. I've been ignored and avoided. I feel your pain.

Truthfully, I would like to go to most of the advertised events. There's something to do every night, which is precisely what makes the Locust Walk fiasco so great and so frustrating. No matter how breathtaking the music or noble the cause, I have neither the time nor the money to do it all. However, some students are unwilling to take "no" for an answer.

Lately, I have become the unhappy victim of the most aggressive type of flyerer. I've tried to seem very aloof and distracted by pretending to see someone I know in the distance or focusing intently on my feet. But they can smell the fear, you know. I'm like the unfortunate gazelle on the Discovery Channel, wounded and feeble. I am the easy prey. I am a sucker.

However, on Thursday, as I fled the image of the sad, little boy for the third time that day, I realized how ridiculous Locust Walk etiquette had become.

This sucker is taking a stand. No one can force me to attend a show, and I cannot be forced to volunteer. I am much less likely to attend your stupid fundraiser if I've been given facial paper cuts from your pushy club members.

Locust Walk is not the place to harass students into supporting your activities. It is merely a place to make other students aware of your organization's event. If people don't want to come to a show or join your group, taking a fifth flyer is not going to convince them.

Of course, there are benefits to flyering. It's an integral part of Penn campus life. In the words of Penn Singers President Hilary Harris, "There is always a debate about how effective it is, but I think people keep doing it at Penn because of this mentality that everything going on at Penn in a given week is advertised on Locust, and if it's not shouted out on the Walk, it must not be happening."

But there are also other ways to advertise. Talk to leaders of other groups and strike a deal to mutually promote your activities. Announce events to other clubs of which you are a member. Post flyers around campus - everyone likes to read while on the pot. By all means, guilt trip your friends into attending your show, but leave this girl out of it. I will no longer be chased down Locust Walk. I will no longer be a sucker.

Of course, I will still politely take handouts from people who respectfully offer them. Campus events are great! However, driving students away from Locust Walk isn't going to fill more seats at your next show.

The next time you see me walking to class, watch out, because unlike on TV, this gazelle fights back.

Emily Garrett is a College sophomore from Waukon, Iowa. Her e-mail address is garrett@dailypennsylvanian.com . Carpe Di-Em appears on Tuesdays.

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