by Brian Stoler
RICE UNIVERSITY
identification cards -- those
easy-to-misplace, off-white pieces of plastic with your name, college and year
of graduation. Some cards, like mine, also come with an unrecognizable or
unflattering mug shot of the owner. (Like the
Thresher
head shots?)
However, IDs are useful for more than just humor at the holder's expense. They
open up worlds of culinary possibilities thanks to Central Kitchen. Your ID
provides access to Fondren library for a quiet escape from roommates. At least
that's how my roomates use their cards.
You can use an ID to check out badminton equipment from Autry Court to let off
some steam. And, freshmen, did you know that you can pay for the higher quality
food and drink from Sammy's and the CoffeeHouse by simply presenting your card?
When I first went to the CoffeeHouse, I was amazed that my card was sufficient
payment.
Although they have some good qualities, there are some instances in which the
need to use a Rice ID becomes a serious hassle
The card readers that protect communal bathrooms in some colleges are a
particular pet peeve of mine. At first, I could not comprehend any rationale
for their presence; now I think I understand the (flawed) argument.
Let me explain the logic behind bathroom card readers, as I understand it.
Although card readers restrict access to the entire residence portion of the
colleges, it is very easy for any person to get someone to let them in.
Therefore, some "bad" non-Rice person could get into any of the colleges with
relative ease. Bathrooms are a good way for criminals to catch potential
victims unaware and alone, so they might want to hide in one.
Even though someone would likely open a bathroom door for a "bad" guy (or
gal), if a crime did then transpire in that bathroom at around that time, the
door-opener would have a good chance of remembering the characteristics of the
person they let in.
Is the possibility of a slightly higher chance of getting caught going to deter
a potential criminal? Is it really more likely for a crime to occur in a
bathroom than in say, a stairwell? And if bathrooms are such a security hazard,
why don't we have some kind of protection on bathrooms in public buildings such
as the Student Center?
What's really funny about this situation is that access to the bathrooms is not
even limited by gender -- I can just walk up to a women's restroom, insert my
card, and walk in! What kind of security is that?!
Removing the card readers from the bathrooms would have little effect on
safety and would make them more user-friendly. Can you imagine how many carpet
cleanings could be avoided if drunken students were able to get into the
bathrooms
before
they threw up?
Gripes about bathrooms aside, there many possibilities for the expansion of the
use of IDs. Standard room door locks could be replaced with card readers, like
in some hotels. This would give us one less thing to lose, and if someone were
to lose his or her ID card, all the ID card department would have to do is
invalidate the previous card and authorize a new one, as opposed to having to
re-core a lock and grind new keys, an expensive and time-consuming process.
Similarly, access to college commons' should be restricted by card, not by
key.
More services should accept ID cards as payment. If the mixing of meal plan
charges with other charges offends Food and Housing, why not make another
balance that works off of the same card? This balance would, in my idealistic
world, be consumable at the Campus Store, at vending machines and even for
pizza delivery.
Sounds far-fetched? Other universities across the nation have already
implemented card plans such as these. If these services could be paid for with
the invisible money of IDs, their use would likely go up. (Paying with plastic,
the purchase seems free!) These cards would also allow cash withdrawals from a
balance, giving students an easy way to get quick cash on campus.
So maybe you think that this column is nothing more than an idealistic rant
from a whining freshman. But the next time you are standing outside the
bathroom with your legs crossed watching the little red light deny you, or when
you are a nickel short of liquid refreshment, this column's significance will
become apparent.
This item appeared in the Opinion section of the October 10, 1997 issue.
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