Earlier this week, I was driving through one of the many parking lots in the area, and I came to a precipice. No, this was not one formed through thousands of years of water eroding the land, but through several winter weeks here in Binghamton by way of the expansion and contraction of water — it was a giant pothole.

This pothole perplexed me, not only regarding how to get around it, as it was occupying the majority of the exit from the parking lot, but also the thought of how something of such sheer magnitude could be created in Binghamton.

Naturally, my geologist’s sense was tingling.

I began to immerse myself in data, records and history books of the area. The amount of information was staggering, but I quickly realized that this was a foolish thing to try and learn about in an afternoon.

What I did learn was that incidence of earthquakes in Binghamton is nearly 100 times lower than in California, and that’s one thing you can’t “fault” Binghamton for.

So after this not-so-exciting conclusion, I realized Binghamton is safe from any major seismic activity, and for a time seems warm and secure. Then I started thinking, “All right, Binghamton is safe from earthquakes, but what about zombies?”

Basically, I realized that every 50 years or so Binghamton feels some seismic activity (not much, but some), so eventually you realize that “we’re due for something.” However, according to any and all records I’ve found, there have been no zombie invasions since records have been kept. I think we’re due.

I don’t mean to cause a panic, so settle down. I’m not saying that an invasion is coming, but don’t you think its about time?

Even if an invasion is far off, I think we should be prepared. Imagine you are downtown on a Friday night, enjoying some spirits with your chums, and suddenly what you thought was a drunk begins to chow down on your date’s left arm. If you don’t have a plan, you’re screwed.

Your only job now is to get out of downtown Binghamton while taking out as many of those walking-dead bastards along the way as possible (remember: destroy the brain or separate the head from the body). But which way to go?

I recommend going north or northeast. Once you get into the lay country, it’ll be easier to avoid the masses. Your only problem at this point is getting around or through Syracuse or Utica, and then into the Adirondacks where it would be easy to establish a new secure residence where you can grow some food and live off the mountains. Under no circumstances, however, should you head west into Johnson City — there is a massive cemetery there.

While this escape seems complicated, it’s really the only way unless you plan on barricading yourself inside the Library Tower. But then again, it’s only a matter of time until the vending machines run out and a zombie history teacher finishes you off.

No, escape from Binghamton is really the only option, and compared to that in larger urban areas, the process is relatively easy, which brings me back to that pothole. If I were trying to escape the invasion, and that fissure suddenly appeared before my vehicle, it sure as hell would snap my axel, bringing a quick end to my escape. I’m sure I could fight a few of them off, but eventually they’d get me and I’d become “Zombie Dan.”

Dan Lyons is a senior English major.