Earbuds

As I walked toward Fine Hall, my attention quickly turned to my MP3-player phone. I jumped to my usual morning playlist: “Mellow.” My thrice-a-week walk to Fine was a world of Tiesto, Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews Band and Coldplay, a world interrupted by only the occasional nod or wave in the human highway that was Washington Road. My world was a noise-proof sanctuary — a concert for me, and only me.

After lecture, my earbuds again made their way into my ears. I mechanically flipped to my “House” playlist. Basshunter flowed into Cascada, which soon became Alice Deejay. I soon found myself mouthing “Better off Alone” while in line at Wilcox Dining Hall, brought by my own personal wormhole — my earbuds — into near ignorance of the countless friends in line with me.

As “Better off Alone” ended, with an echoing “talk to me,” I waited eagerly in anticipation of the following song but was rewarded with only a blank hissing noise. I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket: The Palm Pre Music Application had frozen. I quickly reset the application, this time trying the “Party” playlist. However, when I played “Party in the USA,” I heard only a hiss: For whatever reason, my phone had corrupted.

I went back to my room and reformatted my phone. After resetting my phone, I attempted to sync my Palm Pre with iTunes. To my dismay, I found that Apple had succeeded in sabotaging Palm: iTunes no longer worked with the Palm Pre. My Pre was musicless, as were going to be my walks from class to class.

Nov. 11, 9:30 a.m. I rolled out of bed and began my daily 30-minutes-before-first-lecture routine. Seventeen minutes later, I found myself with three minutes for my pre-lecture check-down: laptop in backpack, watch on left wrist, wallet in left pocket, phone in right pocket and headphones in ears. I was ready.

As I walked toward Fine Hall, I instinctively focused my attention on the Palm Pre Music Application. The application popped up a simple notification: no music. It struck me right then that I had to make the walk to Fine au naturale. I threw my headphones in my pocket and walked, reminding myself to find a new way to import music into my Pre, resigning to the boring walk that was to come.

To my surprise, my walk was hardly quiet: I found myself quickly fascinated by squirrels frantically amassing food stockpiles, trees shedding their final leaves and even the occasional student, biking nonchalantly to class. As I approached Washington Road, I came to realize that it was more of a traffic-light–laden local road than a freeway: Rich conversations with old friends, classmates, Outdoor Action hiking-mates, eating club acquaintances and teammates elongated my trip to Fine. If it wasn’t a long conversation, it was a hug; if it wasn’t a hug, it was at least a quick shout-out. The only people to whom I simply nodded were those with the white earbuds, those who were lost in their own iPods. I was five minutes late to lecture, but was happily late. I had found a side to Princeton that I had neglected for nearly a full semester.

That day, a Facilities Organization worker cleared leaves off the walkway, pausing to jovially embrace a retired friend. A student stapled a poster to a lightpole, stepped back and said, “Nice.” Five tan-shirted Dining Services workers jovially walked to Lot 23, bantering about the day’s events. An army of anxious families walked toward Firestone Library, intently listening to a backward-walking student. Three green-sweatered girls walked briskly toward the Street, discussing their plans for the weekend. A determined faculty member jogged past Wilcox, breathing more heavily with each stop. A well-dressed man powerwalked past me, rehearsing a script jotted down inside his leather folio. A black squirrel skipped toward McCosh Hall, making a light tapping noise on the concrete pathways.

Later that night, I found a workaround to the iTunes glitch. A few minutes later, I uploaded my music back onto my Pre.

Nov. 13, 9:30 a.m. I rolled out of bed and began my daily 30-minutes-before-first-lecture routine. Seventeen minutes later, I found myself with three minutes for my pre-lecture check-down: laptop in backpack, watch on left wrist, wallet in left pocket, phone in right pocket. I saw my headphones on my desk but set them aside. I was ready.

Adi Rajagopalan is a freshman from Glastonbury, Conn. He can be reached at arajagop@princeton.edu.