Skinner's Rat Box

        Skinner’s Rat Box

Suzanne Marsh

I residing in Albion, New York when I decided to advance my knowledge of the piano and enrolled in the Eastman School of Music. I just had no idea of how to handle one way streets. The entire city is a huge maze and here I was in the middle, of an entire city and completely disoriented. I could see Eastman several streets over the question was how to get there. I had driven in Buffalo and had no problems; I had been driving for ten years at the time. I considered myself a good driver until I got to Rochester and its one way only streets.

I arrived in Rochester an hour before I was to meet my professor; I thought that would be sufficient time; much to my chagrin it was not. The street that I wanted was on a one way street; going the wrong way. I followed the signs only to find myself enmeshed further into downtown Rochester. I was already beginning to understand how that rat felt in Skinner’s Box. I turned again and of course that took me away from my objective. I was growing agitated by the moment. I glanced at my watch...I had exactly twenty minutes to find my way to that damn school of music. I must have passed by the back of the school at least a dozen times and had no idea I was supposed to go in that way. I made a right hand turn and head once again in the wrong direction. Skinner’s Rat Box was some how looking very appealing at this point.

The streets were becoming very busy it was ten o’clock in the morning; I wondered where all these people were going. It made no difference since I was lost to begin with. I passed another building that looked as if I had been by it at least three or four times already. I just hoped I would figure out Skinner’s Rat Box before my mind gave way to my temper. I hate being late and worse I hate being lost. Here I was both late and lost. The more I turned and followed the one way streets the worse things became. I thought at one point I would no doubt be old and gray before I found my way to Eastman. The more I thought about that the more I could almost picture a tottering old woman who has been lost since she was twenty nine on the one way streets of Rochester! Quite a headline really but I was determined not to be here for that long.

I saw a street that looked fairly promising I could go down. The next thing I knew I was two streets from my destination. I could almost see Eastman from my car window. I thought things were looking up I drove down made a right hand turn and found myself right back where I had started. I was really confused at this point; I was sure I would never get out of Rochester much less make to Eastman.

I had noticed several mounted patrol men on horses patrolling the side streets. I love horses and watched one trot past me. He must have thought I was simply confused and continued on his rounds. I wanted to chase after him and ask how to get out of this mess I found myself in. Once again I was on the wrong street. It seemed the more I tried to remedy the situation the worse it became. Murphy was working overtime on this situation!

I turned the car around and proceeded to find another street. I found one however there was only one thing wrong with that street. It was a one way street going in the wrong direction. I could see the school entrance from where I was. I began to creep forward toward the parking area. I was so intent on that parking I never noticed or heard the officer on horse back arrive. I was inching ever closer to my objective. Then I looked up to see the police officer motioning me to roll down my window. I sometimes panic and I could feel panic rising. I rolled down the window as calmly as I could. I did not want to see like a ditsy country housewife lost in a rat box.

The officer dismounted off the most beautiful sorrel horse I had ever seen.

“Where madam are you trying to go?”

“You’re not going to give me a ticket are?”

“Madam I can’t help you if I don’t know where it is you are trying to find.”

“THE EASTMAN SCHOOL OF MUSIC.”

“The entrance is right in front of you but you will have to back up.”

“I can’t, you’ll give a ticket.”

“I assure you I won’t give you a ticket but please back up.”

“I don’t want a ticket.”

“Look lady I am not going to give you a ticket. I understand you are lost and confused

now back the damn car up.”

“Are you sure you won’t give me a ticket?’

“Yes lady I am sure I won’t give you a ticket. I will escort you to the entrance to the

Eastman School of Music. Now would you please back up!”

I am sure which of us, the police officer or myself, was more frustrated. I am not very good at backing anything up including the car. I did not wish to tell the officer that since I was sure he would give me a ticket for being uncoordinated. I sighed and began to back up and watching out for the horse. I could see the officer watching me out of the corner of his eye. I missed the horse, missed the officer and hit three garbage cans. The officer looked as if he could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. The horse he was riding stood calmly chewing the grass in front of the school.

The officer got me turned around, took me directly to the entrance to the Eastman School of Music. He smiled as the horse clomped away. I never did understand what he was smiling about but I am willing to say it could have been the garbage can or my frustration with Skinner’s Rat Box city.