Not to be dramatic or anything, but I’d rather be electrocuted than drive on campus. If one more student walks out in front of me or I'm inconvenienced by someone's half-assed parking I may or may not spontaneously combust in a flame of frustration and disappointment.

I don’t know why college people think they’re tougher than moving cars. They'll walk right out in front of you and will go on about their day oblivious to the fact they cheated death. If they acknowledge your existence at all it’ll be when they mean mug you. They’ll throw you a dirty look as if they are offended that you slammed on your brakes in an effort to spare them. Either they have a death wish or they are very confident in everyone’s brakes.

If you don’t hit anyone, you’ll make it to your designated parking lot that is inconveniently on the opposite side of campus from all of your classes.

You’ll circle the parking lot several times avoiding cars that pull out right in front of you, and more students who grossly underestimate how agile you are at 8:45 a.m.

God forbid you try parking anywhere else when the parking lot you had to pay $350 to park in fills up. If you’re feelin' ballsy test your luck and try. Rest assured you will be greeted with a lovely ticket that passive-aggressively informs you that you have to cough up another $50. And if you’re unfortunate enough to go to Auburn, they’ll just tow your car because Auburn sucks.

If you’re really lucky that day and miraculously procure a parking spot you’ll have to deal with a few characters.

You can tell a lot about a guy by the way he parks. Take Bubba, for example, he drives a lifted F-250 to compensate for the rest of his deficiencies and takes up an entire parking spot from line to line. Be careful not to aggravate this one, though. Bubba thought it was a fabulous idea to install an air compressing horn to accompany his obnoxious exhaust system. This engineering wonder is easily identified by the Confederate Flag plastered across the tailgate, and the myriad of stickers such as the outline of a deer, a sticker that says “Rippin’ Lips,” and a sticker that identifies the state he is a resident of. The sight of this thing genuinely frightens you. You get a little jumpy when you see it because you have no idea when he and his gang of “country boys” will decide it’s a great time to use the train horn, or do the rebel yell at you.

Or Todd who drives a Five Series and can’t park, but refuses to pull out and try again. He parks in a manner that makes entering or exiting the neighboring parking spaces damn near impossible. The responsible thing to do would be to PULL OUT, but he doesn’t. You’re left maneuvering your car around his. As you cuss him a good one, in your or head or audibly, you make sure you do not under any circumstances tap his car because his daddy will sue.

You might hear the trap car. A trap car is any kind of vehicle that is blasting trap music as a warning that he or she is speeding through the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Of course, you can identify the trap car by the intense bass line that can be heard from at least a hundred yards away.

You’ll encounter the social justice warrior who is identified by his or her “coexist” sticker complimented by an inflammatory sticker that reads, “Fuck Donald Trump.” They park their brand new Honda Fit two inches from your door leaving you to climb through the passenger side. It seems they don’t “coexist” well in a parking lot.

(P.S. the more stickers they have on their car the more likely they are to leave a rather pretentious note explaining how your car is ruining the environment.)

A girl from Eta Theta Beta is trying her best to park her GLK 350. Knowing the importance of getting in there right, she pulls out and tries again 3 times. While this is tolerable in a large parking lot, when she tries this in a rather narrow parking garage you will inevitably end up watching her try to park for three or four minutes (it's okay I do the same thing and I apologize to anyone who has to deal with my subpar parking capability). When she's not struggling to park her car, you may find her driving her squad to get food with the windows down scream/singing whatever new girl anthem is in.

Last but certainly not least, the fraternity dudes. God bless em. During pledgeship, they pack pickup beds full of new boys who stare at you like you’re the spectacle. Like sorority girls, you can identify a frat boy by the Greek letters on the back of his car. Unlike Bubbas, Todds, SJWs, and sorority girls, fraternity boys don’t like to come out during the day, much less drive. Their cars are usually parked behind their respective frat house and are only moved to get beer and food. You’ll more than likely encounter one of these in a gas station parking lot -- or wherever they get beer from.

College towns are notorious for being hell to drive through. Between people who cannot park, and the people who like to test everyone's brakes, you're in for a ride.