That's What You Think: Stair Sweat

Published 09.25.01 in The Heights, Boston College


By Annie Barrett

There are plenty of ways to embarrass yourself on campus. You can fall asleep in class, trip over nothing, and spill large sodas onto people behind you in the lunch line, all of which I did yesterday.

But one form of student shame cannot be prevented simply by being careful, or being Not Annie. It happens daily and is pretty hard to hide, so stop trying. It’s Stair Sweat (SS), and it’s popping up in gross, beady formation all over campus.

Anyone who has ever walked to class via stairs experiences SS. It just happens. You bound out of your dorm seven or so minutes before class and trudge along in doomed preparation until you finally reach your fate: an infinite array of right angles known as the Higgins Haul (HH).

For those of you who are low enough to exploit the parking garage elevator to preserve your fresh, dry look – this article does not concern you. Go away.

I tried counting the Higgins steps once, but lost count after 140 due to dizziness and lack of breath. The point is, once you reach the top, you’re sweating bullets. And it’s not even over yet, since your classes are conveniently held on each building’s fifth floor.

For those who really focus on their stair mission, it’s almost impossible to engage in conversations that contain any sort of logical progression. Inevitably, one stair sweater will be more physically fit to make the trip than the other, who becomes more or less feverish by the fifth landing but keeps pressing on – a real trooper – despite the panting, thirst and delirium.

“Hey, which class are you going to?”

“Yeah, I do look classy today. Thanks.”

What? “Sure, no sweat.” Though I can’t say the same for you …

“So, which class am I going to?” Wait a second ...

Oh fun, I’ll just confuse her. “The Art of Looking Classy.”

“Cool.” Stop talking. I need to concentrate. Is that a dancing trout?

If there is absolutely no chance of avoiding the Higgins Haul, the worst decision you can make is to try and look “nice.” People will have to comment on your stunning skirt and matching sweater, but will have a hard time holding in the guffaws.

“Oh, you look so nice today.” You’re sweating bullets and look hideous.

There are some elements that can alter the SS experience. Precipitation, for example, introduces a whole new level of repulsiveness to the SS. The tragically hoodless develop a “slick” new hairstyle held together by an unpleasant combination of rain and sweat. And what’s worse, no one can tell one moisture-contributor from the other.

Also corrupting the Higgins Haul experience are those hyper-zealous clowns who choose to incorporate the stairs into their workouts. Sometimes, they even swing their arms, which are adorned with wrist weights or, even worse, water bottles.

The Higgins Haul itself is enough to constitute a day’s workout. If I lived on Upper Campus, I’d just trot down to the Plex, take a moment to bask in its beauty, and then just book it back up the stairs. On the way back, I’d go get a Starbucks pastry and delete all of my efforts.

But that’s just me. You shouldn’t do that. Not ever. No, do it. Right now. Raspberry crumb cake.


Many bold souls have tried to combat the SS, to no avail. Their methods of SS suppression have included:

General physical fitness. Sorry, but no. Even I sweat profusely after stepping, and I can run almost a quarter-mile without stopping. Try again.

Wearing of minimal clothing. Tons of people try this every day and are let down becuase they still end up sweating. But, wearing less does mean that you’ll glisten more noticeably during class. That may turn some classmates on, but will probably gross most of them out.

Cold weather. Wrong again. Come November, you’ll still be sweating – but under sweaters and coats, which makes the SS so much nastier.

Hypnosis. Nope, doesn’t work. I even tried constructing a virtual series of floating signs, hypnotizing my friends and pushing them up the stairs. Every 40 or so steps, the “signs” would appear, but the subjects still eventually realized their own filth. Their reactions are below.

Stair 40 sign: “You will not sweat.” That’s right. I will not.

Stair 80 sign: “Welcome to Antarctica.” Oh, thanks for having me.

Stair 120 sign: “You’re not hot, you’re just scared because you’re trapped inside a meat locker.” Oh, that sucks. Wait, then how come I’m sweating?

Stair 160 sign: “You are not sweating. You’re glowing.” Gross, I’m sweating. Dammit!

The above failure stems from two possibilities. One, the plain white background of my Antarctica sign wasn’t convincing enough and two, I don’t know how to hypnotize people. But it really boils down to this: you can’t avoid the Stair Sweat. So don’t even try.

I’ll see you at the top.

Next TWYT: The Open-Mouth Phenomenon