Michigan in Color
6 — Wednesday, February 1, 2023
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
How to make a omelette
When I walk along the newly
renovated State Street in Ann
Arbor,
I
feel
contradictory
emotions. Sometimes I see the
curbless road, the string lights
and benches, and think: how
nice. When I’m driving, however,
it feels like the worst idea ever
conceived. It’s irritating, sitting
there stalling. I hear honking. I
witness, invariably, the stress of
drivers going nowhere. I can’t help
but wonder: was that $9 million
dollars, the trouble for businesses
and the line of cars stretching
down to South University, really
worth it?
Prior
to
the
renovation,
State Street had three lanes
along East William Street and
North University Avenue — one
designated
turning
lane,
and
another lane for non-turning cars.
The sidewalks were narrower, and
had a curb.
LSA
senior
James
Utley
remembers driving down the
street without an issue. “The
difference
between
then
and
now,” Utley said, “is that now I
try to avoid State Street whenever
possible.”
According to Maura Thomson,
Communications
Manager
for
the
Downtown
Development
Authority,
the
goal
was
to
prioritize
pedestrians’
comfort
and safety. “And also to maintain
an acceptable level of service for
vehicles,” Thomson said.
“The State Street project has
been on the DDA’s radar as a project
that needed to be done for years,”
Thomson said. “That corridor is
a critical, iconic corridor in our
downtown. It’s sort of the nexus of
our downtown and campus, where
they meet.”
According to a presentation by
the Transportation Commission,
there are approximately 8,000
pedestrians and 6,600 vehicles
traveling these two intersections
during peak hours (between 8:00 -
9:00 a.m. and 4:45 - 5:45 p.m.).
With State Street’s rebranding
as a pedestrian zone, however,
it struggles to function as, well,
a street — for the thousands of
vehicles that use it. When I look at
pictures of the old State Street, my
mind goes: this almost looks like a
highway. That’s not nearly the case
anymore. Perhaps the traffic is the
shock of that transformation.
***
For walkers, State Street’s new
design bears two changes. First,
and most noticeably, is the addition
of a pedestrian-exclusive signal,
whereby all the walk signs are
turned on, and all drivers receive
the red light.
“It took me some time to figure
out what was happening when no
one was moving,” Utley said.
When
it
switches
to
this
pedestrian-exclusive mode, I enjoy
walking across the intersection
diagonally. It’s a blast. The new
signal’s fun-factor is undeniable, as
is the added safety. The aesthetic
appeal is especially welcomed
among myself and others.
“I do like it a lot more. I
appreciate the wider streets,” LSA
sophomore Riha Hagalwadi said.
“It looks a lot better,” chimed
her friend, LSA sophomore Riya
Chakravarty.
Both
Hagalwadi
and
Chakravarty
use
State
Street
primarily for walking, as they don’t
own a car on campus.
I spoke with Taubman sophomore
Matthew Daines, who drives in Ann
Arbor, along with Utley.
“With the trees and benches, it
looks more inviting and functional.
Especially now with the 15-minute
parking,” Daines said. As for his
thoughts on driving, he pointed to
the cars behind us.
“It’s very stop and start. We
could follow a car from here
and see it stop two times. It’s
frustrating,” Daines said.
I talked to Ann Arbor resident
Amelia
Barnard
and
LSA
sophomore Josh Moss, who each
drew attention to the obstacles
that already exist for cars around
Ann Arbor.
“The bike lanes I appreciate. But
what I think might be unnecessary
are the pylons,” Barnard said.
“In the case of an emergency
there’s no place to pull over. Cars
are already limited.”
Moss has been driving on State
Street since high school. When I
spoke with him, he had been riding
his bike.
“They started making the lights
super short, then having it stop,
and having all the pedestrian
sidewalks going at the same time,”
Moss said. “There’s traffic from
Nakamura (co-op) all the way here,
just a straight line of cars, and you
have to turn around and drive up
Division. It’s horrible.”
“I have a friend that lives just up
there,” Moss continued, motioning
up the street to Kerrytown. “Before
it would take probably a six, seven
minute drive. Now it’s like 40.”
Maybe the ability to turn left at
the intersection will be removed.
Maybe the signals will go back to
normal. Or it could be that State
Street is simply not a place meant
for cars anymore.
***
There are new intervals when
pedestrians are not supposed to
cross, period. This is the second big
change for walkers. Pedestrians
can still walk when the light turns
green, but only for a few seconds.
When the walk sign displays a red
hand, the flow of traffic depends
on pedestrians not crossing.
SHANIA BAWEJA
MiC Columnist
Sitting Knee to Knee: My
Punjabi Roots
Design by Agniva Bhaumik
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Better not read this. Or,
alternatively: Are you sure you
want to read this?
See, this could go one of two
ways. Actually, now that I think
about it, this can only go one
way. You’ll read this, but you’ll
forget it, at some point. Don’t
get me wrong, that’s natural. I’ll
probably forget writing this, at
some point. There is no comfort
greater and more reliable than
the impermanence of memory.
(On the other hand, I wonder
if I’ll look back on this years
down the line? This article,
forever attached to my name?
There’s a publication rule here
— you can’t come back and take
down your writing, even years
down the line. To write in an
attempt not to disappoint your
audience, when your audience
is all unknown iterations of
your future self, is quite the
undertaking.)
Okay, I’ll cut to the chase:
here’s how to make an omelette.
1. Gather your ingredients.
A single egg could suffice. The
beauty of an omelette is its
inherent minimalism.
2. Turn on the burner. Put
your pan on the burner.
3.
Crack
your
egg(s,
depending) into the pan. Did
you coat the pan in butter?
Sorry, I forgot to add that in.
You might have to start over.
Unless you’ve got one of those
non-stick pans. If so, I’m happy
to be the bearer of good news:
you’re in luck. I commend you
for your ability to think ahead.
4. Now, this part is crucial.
Listen. I don’t want to be a
doctor. Okay, that’s not true.
I do. Or, at least, it’s the thing
I don’t want the least. Or
actually, I’ve never wanted
anything more. Is this making
sense to you?
5. Mix the eggs in the pan,
before they start to solidify.
I could’ve done that before
cooking everything. At least I
know for next time now, right?
6. That was another lie. The
doctor part, that is. There is
one thing I’ve wanted more.
7. Recently I was talking to a
friend about my tendency to cry
at art museums. Paintings can
easily bring me to tears. It’s not
really the painting that makes
me cry, though.
8. Plato says art is nothing
more than an imitation. I’d
tell him that if nothing else,
it’s an intimate imitation. To
paint is to know your subject
thoroughly, to love something
fleeting enough to sanctify it
into the permanent. Art is an
expression of love. You can tell
a lot about someone by looking
at what they create. Maybe
that’s what moves me to tears.
The inherent vulnerability in
a piece of art. The shameless
showing of the self. This is my
way of telling you the one thing
I’ve wanted more.
9. I’ve always envied the
devotion people have toward
what they love. I’ve never
loved something so much that
it hurts. I’m not sure if I want
to. Maybe that’s why I’m not an
artist.
10. That’s another lie. I’m not
sure which part, though.
11.
Funnily
enough,
I’ve
never wanted to be a writer.
I say that, but here I am now,
shamelessly showing myself to
you.
12. The last thing left is for
you to take your eggs off the
pan. At this point, they’re
probably burned. You probably
already know that, though.
The inevitable result of getting
sidetracked. Nothing is worse
than an overcooked omelette.
Even though you got this far, it’s
better to cut your losses than
to soldier through trying to
enjoy it. You can’t rewind time
either. Time doesn’t really stop
for anything, burnt omelettes
and
unfulfilled
dreams
notwithstanding.
You
can’t
really try to ignore it, either.
Not
when
you’re
currently
surrounded by the remains of
everything that went wrong
and the disappointing smell of
burnt eggs. I would know.
AYA SHARABI
MiC Columnist
Design by Aya Sharabi
Design by Yash Aprameya
there’s something special
about those middle moments.
like sitting in the passenger seat,
on a sunny day,
bollywood melodies sung by the radio,
the wind whistling its harmony
as I turn the pages of a book
where the protagonist
falls to his knees in the drizzling
streets of new york city.
and for a brief moment in time,
you shift your gaze from its words
only, you haven’t quite realized
the raindrops collecting on your window.
or in a bustling café,
your eyes meet with a friendly face,
but in that fraction of a second,
you don’t recognize each other.
and in that middle moment,
you’re just two strangers,
locked into a staring contest.
middle
moments
YASH APRAMEYA
MiC Digital Media Chair