Turning off lights saves energy

At 6:30 AM the first alarm went off. The watch's light flashed as I reached to turn it off. I do not remember either the 7 or 7:30 AM alarm. What I do remember is holding the watch in my hand and at around 8:30 and thinking "So much for the 'early to rise' plan."

Clothes on, check email, clothes off, into the shower. Out of shower, brush teeth, find clean clothes, grab wallet. Find bike, find helmet, find keys, out the door. All by 9:15.

A professor left reading material outside his office. My class with him is tomorrow. I also had to deposit money into our UK bank account today. So off I went.

Up the street, around the corner, across a crosswalk, into the park, and out onto another street. Down the street, to the t-intersection, across to the bike trail, and ride, ride, ride up the hill until I met the tree-trimmer.

In Britain, shrubbery and tree-scapes are maintained be dedicated crews. Dedicated so that nothing will stand in their way. This includes morning rush hour traffic and those pesky American student bicyclists who want to avoid cycling up hills in morning rush hour traffic while on the road.

The anti-shrubbery machine's shrubbing arm reached across the bike path while the body of the machine lay in the left lane -- blocking all traffic going my way. Seeing a lone bicyclist coming, the body of the machine promptly left the rode so he might block the bike path more efficiently.

He was foiled. I was a mere diversionary tactic, and now the line of cars behind me and around the bend no longer were blocked by the machine. Unfortunately, as is the case for most diversionary tactics, this helped me, the diversion, very little.

So off the bike path, onto the road, ride, ride, ride, hard, hard, hard, up the hill and finally into a bus stop lane and once again onto the path, into the campus, and onto broad pedestrian/cyclist only lanes.

Ride, ride, ride through the campus, slow, slow, slower until I reached the law school and my paper. Into the door, up the stairs, up the second flight of stairs, down a hall, back the other way, lost, found, lost again, then finally, with paper in hand, back down the stairs, through a hall, down the second stairs, and in front of the instant coffee machine.

50p later (50 pence, half a pound) a flimsy plastic cup held instant coffee grounds that were being dissolved as hot water flowed over them. Stirring straw in hand, I went to the main hall to rest and read a bit of my paper.

Read, read, read, but not too fast. Sip, sip, sip, but not too slow. Coffee gone, paper packed in my backpack, out the door and off I went once again on the cycle. Surprisingly, my bike was the only one at the school, which seemed odd. Usually there are another 20 or so.

Ride, ride, ride through campus. In the park a dog in the distance, running, ignoring his owner, sees me and comes my way. Ride some more, reach the sidewalk, stop and wait. Dog comes up, looks at me, decides I am not a squirrel, stops ignoring the owner and runs back. Ride, ride, ride down to the student commons and the bank. Park the bike, chain to the post, and off on foot I went.

Walk, walk, walk to the bank. It's now 10:08, and I reach to open the door. Nothing. Locked. Sign on the door says the bank is open at 9:30. Check watch, 10:09. Perhaps it is a bank holiday, perhaps they open later? Workers are inside, so I will get more coffee. I walk two doors down to Dolce Vita, a coffee shop.

It is important here to note that something like this has happened before. Earlier in the year I tried to go into Dolce Vita. It was morning. Around 9 or 10. The door did not open. People were inside drinking coffee. People were outside at their tables drinking coffee. People were placing orders at the counter. The door would not open. No one came to open it. I felt like a fool, but worse was the idea that these people were so incompetent as to lock out potential customers during open hours. Dolce Vita is not so much dolce, and sometimes I think their employees have little in the way of vita.

But, today, the door opened. In I went, coffee I ordered, outside I sat, my law paper I read.

I saw someone go into the bank, so I figured they finally opened. I hurried my coffee drinking, possibly burning my mouth. Paper packed, bike helmet in hand, coffee cup in the trash, I went to the bank door. It was 10:25. Nothing. Locked. Still. One of the employers held up five fingers. Must be open at 10:30 then, so I went to wander the student commons area looking at posters.

Bus complaints, parking complaints, upcoming bands, gun ownership statistics and why that's bad, statistics on poverty and the wealth divide, Dashboard Confessionals in December, so many posters, apparently so much time.

10:30, the three people waiting outside was let in. I walk over. Something, finally -- the door opens. By now the pattern has become apparent. I ask the employee near the door: "Let me guess -- it's 9:30?" Yes, he says. "Ah, time change," I say.

It is possible to fall forward, but not advisable. And, apparently the British fall back earlier. At least Republicans will be happy to know the British understand turning off lights saves energy.