The writer working on her thesis

I don’t know about you, but flying cross-country isn’t my favorite way to spend an afternoon. Squealing babies, the persistent hum of rumbling engines and, my favorite part — a bathroom the size and smell of a single in the Quad. But you can’t exactly walk from Philly to San Francisco, and anyway, I was excited about my destination.

Armed with a pile of articles and my laptop, I figured that I’d make the best of the six-hour flight. Surely, it would be the perfect place to add some final touches to the good ole’ thesis. And for once, there would be neither Internet nor instant messages to distract me.

Suddenly, the man in front of me decided that he needed additional space, and I watched in horror as his seat tumbled towards me. My laptop was instantly wedged into a perfect 75-degree angle (yes, I carry a protractor on every cross-country flight). In order to even see the computer screen, I had to pull my tray-table as far out as possible, with the keyboard digging into my lower abdomen. Now that’s a comfortable writing environment, a way to beckon the muses and feel the juices flow.

But that’s not the point. When traveling by plane, people need to have some better etiquette and respect for others. Is it really necessary to recline your seat as far backwards as possible? Trust me, the seats don’t get anymore comfortable no matter how you bend them. Anyway, sitting in an upright position is much better for your back, posture and overall physical health.

Airlines should seriously consider disabling the reclining feature on their seatbacks. Because let’s face it, not everyone is lucky enough to sit in an exit row, and passengers would be much happier with some additional room to breathe.

Though traveling is a privilege, we must maintain our rights to privacy and personal space. Clearly, an airplane flight is not the ideal time and place to find a stranger’s head in your lap.

In February 1993, a bomb exploded in the parking garage of the World Trade Center. (ATF)

It was February 26, 1993. I was a happy second-grader in Ms. Price’s class at Frost Elementary, busy observing mealworm metamorphosis and memorizing state capitals. After school, I’d carpool to soccer practice and hone my skills for the upcoming travel-team tryouts. My greatest fear: that my younger brother would beat me to the TV, I had an exciting rerun of Eureka’s Castle to watch.

The bell finally rang, and the F-8 school bus took me to the street corner where my babysitter waited. As we entered the house, however, I know that TV wasn’t tuned to Nick Jr. or PBS Kids. In my foggy memory, I vaguely recall images of a scorched building, surrounded by chaotic swarms of people.

“A suspected car bomb has exploded underneath the World Trade Center in New York killing at least five people and injuring scores more,” the BBC wrote two days ago in their commemoration of the 14th anniversary of the attack, part of their On This Day series. “The immense blast happened at 12:18 local time in the Secret Service’s section of the car park underneath and between what are New York’s tallest buildings.”

The BBC then quoted a World Trade Center stockbroker, who said that “It felt like an airplane hit the building,” Little did he know that eight years later, those words would become a horrific reality in our nation. While the catastrophic events of Sept. 11, 2001 stick out most distinctly in our minds, those of Feb. 26, 1993 paved the way for an inflammation of terrorist threats in the United States. As former New York Governor Mario Cuomo stated, “Until now, we were invulnerable”–we were Americans and we were untouchable.

While we’re stressing over the difficulties and boredom of midterms, we should step back for a second and consider just how lucky we are to be safe and to be here at Penn today. We’re working hard to become the future leaders of this nation, and the drudgery of papers and exams will lead to much more than the drunken beach revelry of next week’s vacation.

Let’s remember that we too are not “invulnerable” as we leave for Spring Break. No matter how old we are, our moms will always have reason to worry about us. Be careful, be safe–I’ll see you all on March 12.

Deep breaths. Well, on second thought…(Sharon Udasin/DP)

Walking past the desolate wasteland formerly known as Cinemagic and College Pizza during the final days of demolition, there was a reassuring cloudy haze of white particulants looming over the zone. It’s comforting that Penn cares so much about the safety of its students and the workers.

“University Partners, as well as our construction partner, InTech, perform the highest level of safety and security as we work through ordinances, permits and processes with city, county and state government regulators.” Elyse Hammett, spokesperson for University Partners, the lead construction contractor for the project, wrote in an e-mail interview. “It is both University Partners and InTech Construction’s missions to meet or exceed all requirements for OSHA and compliance with all ordinances, processes and procedures throughout the entire scope of this building project.”

Unfortunately, despite the high-winded rhetoric, University Partners refused to specifically address such trivial details as “ordinances” and “procedures.” The company also declined to answer important questions like whether or not heavy metals, fiberglass and asbestos were present among the demolition rubble, each of which can lead to serious respiratory injuries for workers.

If cement and glass particulants are restricting our breathing passages simply as we walk by, imagine the health and safety risks that the construction workers confront after spending an entire day on the scene.

When workers don’t wear respirators at a site such as 3925 Walnut St., they can be dangerously exposed to fibrous fragments, such as fiberglass and asbestos. Dr. Marilyn Howarth, an assistant professor of Occupational and Environmental Medicine at the Medical School, describes each of these fibers as a “very long narrow kind of a particle that is caught in the substance of the lung,” which damages cells, at the site that it lodges, and “the healing process of trying to get rid of this fiber sets up an ongoing scarring process.” Particularly damaging are non-degradable substances such as the most infamous culprit, asbestos.

“If you have enough of these fibers, you can develop a condition such as Mesothelioma,” Howarth said. “Cancer that is related to asbestos doesn’t develop for 20 to 30 years.”

That’s an eerie thought. What a terrible feeling &mdash to know that cancer is a likely reality in future years to come. But the construction workers have no choice; they need to earn money, and if they don’t perform the job, then someone else will. Project managers and construction companies like University Partners and InTech must focus more attention on employee safety and consider their workers’ vitality with much greater value. And because Penn leases the Walnut St. land to these private enterprises, the University is by no means exempt from this cooperative responsibility.

A final note &mdash on Thursday afternoon, InTech finally moved the cement barricades closer to the fence, and pedestrians now have no choice but to cross the street. Thanks for finally heeding our words of caution, after the demolition is already complete.

I <3 NY (ny.gov)

Grime mixed with filth, with a slash of urine, a handful of rats and some scattered Metrocards. These are some of the lavish decorations that pave the floors of every subway station in the New York City underground labyrinth. Yet on Valentine’s Day last week, over 150,000 New Yorkers were able to get even more down and dirty than usual — but this time, with a bit of protection.

On this Feb. 14, the the New York City Health Department unveiled the “NYC Condom, the first in the nation with an official brand.”

And the wrapper even features brilliantly-colored replications of the different subway lines. Now that’s eye candy.

According to the city’s press release, “More than 100 night spots and retail outlets — including Kenneth Cole, Theory and MAC Cosmetics — are giving them out to clients throughout the day, and many will continue to distribute them.”

And as The New York Times wrote, the Internet-based Free Condom Initiative has been hugely successful since its onset in June 2005. With approximately 1.5 million chic condoms distributed a month, its safe to say that sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies are going out of style in New York City. Racy animations on the program’s Web site encourage safe sex on the city through “the condom that speaks all languages”—or five, if you watch the cartoon.

So, Philadelphia, this is our cue — we should follow in the footsteps of our neighboring city and create some government-sponsored rubbers of our own. But we might want to avoid the Philly subway stations as marketing tools, whose crime and filth certainly exceed those of New York. Any SEPTA doesn’t have the draw of the stimulating spunky colored circles.

Sex isn’t going to end anytime soon, so neither are STDs nor potentially costly accidents. Free and popularized access to condoms would certainly curb disease spread and help maintain sexual wellbeing in our densely populated city.

It’s time that the Philly government started promoting some healthier brotherly lovin’.

It’s a partaaaaaay! (Architect of the Capitol)

Dear Penn students,

Today Abe and I were chatting over a midday martini at the Cloud Nine Presidential Lounge. We keep trying to acquire a guest pass for our old chum Ben, but this seems to be one place where Poor Richard’s Almanacjust won’t gain him access. And you wouldn’t believe all of the perks we enjoy up here: Marilyn Monroe, Helen of Troy, Rita Hayworth…Ahem, I mean scholarly conversation, visits from Sophocles and lunches with Aristotle–it’s a whole other world.

I digress.

Penn students, we’re writing to you on the fervent recommendation of Ben. Apparently, you guys still have it in with a founding father up here in heaven. I’m writing to you because of “long train of abuses and usurpations” by your University of Pennsylvania. This coming Thursday will be my 275th birthday, and Abe celebrated his 198th just one week ago. Today is our collective celebration for the most humble deeds of two quite distinguished fellows, if I may say so myself (Humility wasn’t ever one of my strong suits. When I told those generals to “do Justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that Charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind, which were the Characteristicks [sic] of the Divine Author of the blessed Religion,” I was bluffing.) But I bet that at least half of you reading this letter have completely forgotten about this occasion, commonly known as Presidents’ Day. You Penn students, for example, don’t even get to miss classes in my honor–no love for the founders.

I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but honestly, you all might not be Americans without me. In fact, you might be subjects of Queen Elizabeth right now–or who knows, maybe even of France! Pragmatically, I understand that my national birthday celebration was moved from the rightful February 22 to the third Monday in every month. For taxpayers, government officials and general convenience, this just makes much more sense.
While the holiday is still officially called “Washington’s Birthday,” I am happy, honored really, to share this day with someone as admirable as my good friend Abe Lincoln. His foresight, integrity and value in human equality changed the progression of our country in ways no one ever thought possible. Clearly, racial differences in the United States are far from over, yet Abraham Lincoln’s innovative prowess is bringing a gradual end to injustice in our multicultural nation. And besides, his elegantly sculpted beard and designer top-hat must certainly be the envy of every modern man.

America established a day to commemorate the presidential legacies of Lincoln and myself, and it saddens me to find us so often unremembered and ignored. Just like the wartime martyrs on Memorial Day, the valiant Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in January and workers on Labor Day, we deserve some more public acknowledgement for our deeds. Honestly, I just don’t think you should have to be at that Econ lecture or PoliSci recitation today–unless, of course, you’re about to discuss the merits of the Revolutionary War.

Respectfully yours,

George Washington

will.i.am, of the The Black Eyed Peas, arrives for the 49th Annual Grammy Awards on Sunday, Feb. 11, 2007, in Los Angeles. (AP Photo/Matt Sayles)

This day has become increasingly sexualized by young adults as just one more occasion for our hormone-driven games. And surely, many of us could use a little humor when we ritually embrace this climactic afternoon. Saint Valentine I can handle, it’s “hump day” that causes us to tremble with excitement. For on each Wednesday, we struggle to the top of the precise bell curve that supposedly defines our week.

My hump, my hump, my hump &mdash besides these weekly high points in our lives The Black Eyed Peas also plague us with their lovely lady lumps on an all too regular basis. Fine…I guess…if we’re “dancing” at a fraternity party–though our frats could choose their playlists with much better taste. Ultimately, however, while drunken college students may have no problem grinding all that junk to a song called “My Humps,” this tune does not merit national status as a cultural emblem of musical virtuosity. And, I really don’t think the song’s lyrics are describing the peak of our weekly monotony. I could be wrong.

Apparently, music critics don’t agree with me. On this past Sunday night, The Black Eyed Peas received the Grammy Award for “Best Pop Performance By a Duo or Group with Vocal” for their aforementioned masterpiece. These artists surely don’t deserve to be standing next to past Grammy legacies, like Simon and Garfunkel, Leonard Bernstein or Billy Joel. The Black Eyed Peas rudely proclaim that they’re gonna get, get, get, you drunk, while Billy more clasily invites us to join him for bottle of red, bottle of white. He guides us from Saigon to Rock and Roller cola wars and through his personal dreams with unprecedented piano accompaniment. See, Billy Joel “knows just where he stands” and what he has to do to maintain his status as a musician. The Black Eyed Peas, on the other hand, will quickly become another can of beans–or, I should say, a can of milky cocoa.

This Sunday’s celebration of “boys” that wanna sex me devalues the reputations of the more deserving winners and even American music as a whole. Associate Professor of Music Carol Muller informed me that two Penn “real musicians” alums actually won Grammys this year: Osvaldo Golijov and John Legend. Since 1959, some of the other most prominent Grammy legendaries include Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, Paul McCartney and Frank Sinatra.

The 49th class of Grammy Award judges are carelessly violating their commitment “to bring national attention to important issues such as the value and impact of music and arts education and the urgency of preserving our rich cultural legacy.” Unless, of course, they consider how much ass is inside them jeans to be an important issue. I can hear Sinatra rolling over in his grave now, mourning the cultural invasion of these pornographic rapsters.

Mayor Street thinks he’s every child’s parent in Philadelphia. That idea makes me pretty queasy. According to Saturday’s Philadelphia Inquirer, Street has signed a law that will enforce even earlier curfews for Philadelphia’s children. During the school year, children 12 and under will now have to be home by 9 p.m. on school nights and by 10 p.m. on the weekends. Children ages 13 to 17 must be off the streets by 10:30 p.m. Sunday through Thursday nights and by midnight on weekends.

To be honest, I didn’t know that Philly had such curfews to begin with, until I read this weekend’s article in the Inquirer. Regardless, the curfews seem to be quite ineffective and inappropriate.

Parents should be responsible for their children’s whereabouts and activities, and this authority is essential to a family’s civil rights and liberties. When the government intercedes in this manner, they are overstepping the duties of parenthood and robbing Philly residents of their parental rights.

In addition to this law’s interference with personal rights, these restrictions are impractical and largely unenforceable. Can a police officer really distinguish a 19-year-old from a 17-year-old? Probably not. On Penn’s campus, an incoming freshman born on Oct. 2, 1989 will be 17 during NSO this August. However, I doubt that this freshman will avoid fraternity parties, simply because it’s 1:30 a.m. on a Saturday night.

Ultimately, Street’s approach to teenage crime reduction is superficial at best. Rather than legally restricting their whereabouts, he should promote some more attractive alternatives, so that kids actively choose to resist drugs and crime. For example, he could organize job search programs, which would give teens more of an incentive to occupy their time productively. Clearly, Philly is never going to be a crimeless Mayberry, NC — thank goodness — but the mayor must take a more constructive and long-lasting route to making our streets safer.

Yummmmmm! (Sharon Udasin/DP)

Some little girls grow up with Barbie Dolls and bright pink lipstick. I grew up with a working knowledge of Radon and Mercury. I used to whine that mother’s expertise in Environmental Health didn’t translate into fashion know-how. I take it back — thanks, Dr. Mom.

Monday afternoon was particularly windy, when I passed the Walnut Street demolition site formerly known as the Philly Diner. No big deal, until the bitter winds brought tiny shards of glass and cement into my eyes.

Stopping for a moment, I peered through the fence and observed a rock quarry that would truly make Fred Flintstone proud. But clearly, Mr. Slate was not on the scene; he would’ve been terribly displeased with this dangerous construction project.

What exactly was flying into my eyes? Immediately, I called Dr. Mom to get her quick evaluation from afar. Thus began my quest to investigate the hazards of this on-campus demolition.

On either end of the construction zone, an ignored sign urges pedestrians to cross over and walk on the other sign of the street. During the day a truck-width gate remains open, with no administrator to deter meandering intruders.

The only barricade separating the nonchalant passerby from the demolition is a flimsy wire fence. Honestly, either sturdier wood should replace the wires, or I should be required to wear a hat and goggles as I walk by. In addition, while all of the workers may wear goggles and hats, they have no chest protection to divert the particles from their lungs.

Dust is in the air, everywhere I look around (Sharon Udasin/DP)

“If you walked by and you experienced dust blowing at you, then the dust mitigation is apparently inadequate,” said Marilyn Howarth, clinical assistant professor of Occupational and Environmental Medicine at the Medical School.

The construction company claims to “adhere to all Occupational Safety & Health Administration standards,” yet the destruction of such aged buildings could release hazardous materials into the air. According to Howarth, one particle often found at construction sites is asbestos, which is not degradable and can cause permanent injury (such as mesothelioma or future cancer) to heavily exposed workers. While Howarth also acknowledges that heavy metals, such as lead, mercury, chromium and potentially arsenic could be present at a demolition site, these toxins are actually not our biggest problem.

Rather, a more pressing concern is the wind dispersion of cement particles, like those found scraping my own eyes, which can cause of corneal abrasions and lung problems.

“All the irritants — both in fiber and particulant form — are the big problem,” Howarth said. “Particulants,” as defined by Howarth, are “solid particles of various sizes, and the size really determines the potential for causing illness.”

Howarth explained that “some of the particles are just irritating in it and of themselves because they are foreign” and can “incite some kind of reaction in the lung” a bronchospasm, which is when the airways constrict.” In addition, the alkaline ingredients found in cement increase the body’s pH, and “that interferes with a whole variety of cellular mechanisms, including the lungs’ ability to clear foreign particles.”

Ultimately, Howarth explained that if you’re passing through the area, you’re undergoing a “time-limited” exposure, which means that it is “limited to the time you’re walking by, except for any fibers that you might inhale, that would never leave you. If you were walking by and you already have a lung condition, there is reason to believe that it could be worsened,” Howarth continued. “The effects from irritants could be additive, people with asthma could have a worsening of their asthma and absolutely, everyone on site should be wearing a respirator.”

Both Penn and Intech Construction need to consider the safety of local residents and workers involved in this project. Certainly, the demolition is necessary to Penn’s future, but we can’t sacrifice our health and safety at the benefit of lower cost and efficiency.

Editor’s pick: thin mints.

We don’t generally think of the Fresh Grocer as the model of citizenry…or even of broccoli. Yet our neighborhood grocery mart has finally done something noteworthy of praise. Lines may be long and selections may be limited, but good old FroGro is pulling through for the community. In the entranceway of the store, very young saleswomen and their mothers are armed with everyone’s favorite cookie — the Girl Scout Cookie.

girl scout cookie sales are much different than outright panhandling — people are directly purchasing a good and knowingly donating any profits to a specific cause. The money benefits an organization that has been around for 95 years, an experience that girls of today have in common with their mothers and oftentimes with even their grandmothers. The Girls Scouts of America provides girls with a social outlet and community service group from an early age, furnishing the confidence they need to become future leaders.

When I think back to my own experiences at Robert Frost Elementary School, among my most prominent memories are our Girl Scout activities. Everyone who was anyone was a member of a troupe, and I remember forging close friendships during sidewalk litter clean-ups and survival lessons deep in the woods. Our cookie sales were a little bit different than todays — back in my day, it was still (marginally) safe to knock on doors throughout the neighborhood. I’ll admit that my years as a Girl Scout ended after fifth grade, but my experiences there will always remain a major part of my life.

Kudos to Fresh Grocer for allowing regional girls to continue a timeless tradition. In an era where kids should no longer approach random homes, the store’s lobby provides the perfect environment for their beneficial cause. I would encourage other local businesses to consider doing the same.

Oh, and, in case you were wondering, Thin Mints still retain the highest annual sales, claiming 25 percent of purchases each year. Samoas come in second place with a close 19 percent, and my personal favorite–Tagalongs–lag behind in third with a measly thirteen percent.