The Brown & White

This isn't another rant about the university police.

To the relief of Chief Edward Shupp and for the sanity of my own father (who also works campus security), I won't begin to diverge on underage drinkers and the cops constant presence at parties. Rather I'll focus on what usually goes unseen.

What I saw Wednesday probably went unnoticed by most of Lehigh's campus. You'll probably never hear about it again, never read the outcome in a crime blotter and never realize what forces were protecting you as you trudged out of Fairmart or Maginnes Hall around 2:30 that afternoon.

As I watched from the fourth floor of the library, the surrounding adderall-induced 4 o'clock victims did not so much as raise their eyes from their books. A few girls chatting at the tables outside seemed oblivious to the world on the other side of their bug-eye sunglasses.

A full bus of students had just departed from outside Packer Memorial Church, leaving the area a bit lifeless and ordinary.

Nothing could have been more unexpected than seeing a university police car charging down the walkway between the church and Packard Hall, darting after a man on a bicycle.

The man pedaled down into campus square, leaving the police with few alternatives other than to circle the area and wait for him to resurface.

From our cubicles, three friends and I watched as this man got off his bicycle and stooped behind the bushes in order to hide from campus police.

The scene was disturbing as this intruder crawled around amidst students while passing police cars were searching for him blindly.

Watching this man make his escape within 100 feet of me left me uneasy and cynical.

There is no reason a person like this should ever be able to enter campus in the first place, I thought. And the fact that he was sitting here in the midst of students as police merely circled the block seemed pathetic.

Again, this isn't another rant about the university police.

What I didn't know is that the police had immediately noticed this man's presence on campus and dealt with the situation.

My friend was walking past McClintic Marshall House on her way to class when she ironically saw this same man, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with red and yellow designs. He passed her on his bicycle, they made eye contact and she immediately knew something was out of the ordinary.

The police chase had started right then and there, and my friends and I in the library only saw the tail end of it.

Walking to class in the aftermath of too many keg stands or trying to make it to five different meetings before lunch at Johnny's, we are too often oblivious to our surroundings and assume that somebody or something will keep us safe.

The nights we crawl back up the Hill from East Fifth Street alone because it seemed cool to be the last person at the party, we do so in an unmindful stupor and, luckily, wake up unharmed in our own homes. Because nothing that bad has ever happened to anyone we know.

By relying on our past luck, we don't acknowledge all of the threats that actually exist. And because we don't realize these threats, we fail to comprehend the legitimacy of our campus police.

Like most, I love to complain about our police force. They've sent friends and me home on weekend nights, reprimanded us for "noise pollution" when we're just listening to music in the car and have generally left me with the impression that they have nothing more serious to do.

But their presence, coupled with a sensible few students, is the reason we can get away with perpetual inebriation, late-night frolicking and bouts of brainless decisions - and still wake up unharmed.

That Wednesday, one of my friends immediately called the police as the scene unfolded. She described to the dispatcher where the man was hiding, which way the police cars had gone and what turns they should make in order to get closer.

If you say you would have done the same, you're probably fooling yourself.