Kelly White Explains It All: Temple’s Secret Weapon & Campus Security
Another A-HA! moment courtesy of today’s Metro:
From automated building lockdowns to campus-wide text messaging, college officials increasingly look to technology when responding to campus emergencies.
But in the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre, some schools are also trying to encourage a more old-fashioned form of communication: talking.
Right on. So while Drexel locks their shit down and jumps on the texting safety net, and Penn State issues Shit-Is-Hitting-The-Fan! warnings via text and email, we at Temple U. are prepared. See, when there’s a bomb on campus and instead of fighting or fleeing you whip out your Razr and finger-bang “OMFG ths sht is bnnns”, and the school mass-hollas back “dck n run 4 cvr”, then you deserve to not survive.
More ‘splaining to do after the jump.
Now granted, the most dangerous thing that has ever happened to me at Temple involved the server being down so that I could not access the good ‘ol Internets, or maybe the cinematic stand-off across the way at The Pearl. Security is solid on the Main Campus considering we’re in North Philly and most of the violence occurs way, way later than you’d ever catch us here. We’ve got something those other schools don’t, however. And that would be Mr. Happy.
Now for those of you who know Mr. Happy, you’re already getting that stoned look of unadulterated joy on your faces. The jolly security guard is like the Santa Claus, Oprah, and Dave P of Annenberg Hall. The moment you enter the building, dude serenades you with a greeting from behind his desk, which is always laden with a fresh stack of Metros, a box of Munchkins, and a bowl of Dum-Dums. If you’re feeling particularly down, he directs you to the fridge behind him, where you can help yourself to a bottled water. We even saw a guitar player jammin’ behind the desk with him one time. On good days, he is the icing. On suicidal mornings when you walk in from an acid rain downpour in a comatose state beyond caring about salvaging the remains of your semester, he is the shot of whiskey that you need. If every campus in the country had a Mr. Happy, students could trade their bullets for chocolate frosteds and shoot the shit with their bestest man instead of their triflin’ classmates. Text as you wish, but the real key to ending bloodshed is a security guard who’s smokin’ the right stuff and saintly enough to share.
Metro: Campus Texting Alerts Brought To You By Cingular Wireless
