If you're like me, you're well aware of, and frustrated to tears by the number-one problem affecting students at Penn State.

For the uninitiated and the ignorant, I'll spell out the dilemma in black-and-white. It's not violence. It's not alcoholism. It's not even the tuition hikes. The problem, my friends, is the on-campus elevator system.

You're probably thinking, "Aren't there more pressing issues at hand? You're ignoring Hurricane Katrina, John Roberts' nomination to the position of Chief Justice, and the season premiere of Lost."

Regardless of the subject's triviality, the elevator situation has its ramifications -- I'm sure every student has their own elevator horror story, with consequences ranging from missed dates to the better part of an evening spent singing "Kum-Ba-Yah" in the six-by-six box while waiting for rescuers.

Oftentimes I think it'd be quicker and safer to scale the wall of my dorm with rock climbing equipment than to use an elevator. I guess I could always use the stairs, too, but what's the fun in that? In terms of efficiency, the stairs are much more practical. They get stuck far less. But our thousands of dollars in tuition per year demand that I use technology more recent than prehistory to get from place to place.

If I want to travel from point A to point B in the most stylistic and leisurely mode possible, there's nothing more en vogue than the elevator, regardless of how often the thing is flat-out broken (about 78 percent of the time).

Fortunately for us, the inner doors of most campus elevators contain convenient, neon yellow stickers highlighting detailed information about coping with an elevator emergency. Take the one in my dorm, for example: "If you get stuck," the sticker says, "please do the following." Below this, someone has scratched out the instructions in favor of their own. The emergency agenda now reads: "Have sex!"

If only we could get Condom Co-Op to set up camp in the elevators, there'd be no problem at all.

I'm still sure that plenty of people would appreciate more practical measures to guarantee protection on their voyage up or down. So for your convenience, I've created my own set of rules for elevator safety, in the incredibly likely event that you'll become trapped during your stay at State College:

Step one: Stay put. Try your hardest not to go anywhere.

Step two: Remain calm. That's what your iPod is for, right? Put on a little John Mayer or Dave Matthews Band to calm your nerves. Some favorite tunes of mine during those elevator entrapment experiences include Dr. Dre's "Let's Get High," "Fall Down" by U2 and the Steve Miller Band's rendition of "Stuck in the Middle with You." Your picks might vary, but whatever puts you in a good mood, you know?

Step three: Use the telephone, if available. Be sure to call for help. And if you're hungry waiting for rescuers, the use the phone to order a pizza to eat after you escape your predicament. With any luck, some emotional sap will feel sorry enough for you that they'll even pay for it.

Step four: Push the emergency alarm button. Let it ring early, often, and for as long as possible. If you're miserable inside the elevator, you have every reason to make those in close proximity suffer too.

Step five: Don't be afraid to ride the elevator again. When, or if, you're saved from the clutches of certain doom, don't hesitate to employ the elevator in the future. After all, an elevator is serviced soon after it malfunctions, and it'll be a few days before the possibility arises that it might break again.

Of course, you could always just ignore these steps and have sex. However, there is very little evidence to support that this will repair the elevator.

Penn State is supposed to raise its students into the problem solvers who will one day run the world. We should walk out of here as writers, scientists, mechanics, heck, even brain surgeons. But if we can't even trust the university to fix its faulty elevators, how are we supposed to trust it to educate us properly?