Readers, let me ask you a personal question.
Have you ever stood out in the rain in nothing but your boxers at two in the morning?
Oh, really? Then you have not LIVED, good sirs and gentlewomen.
My RA started the year off saying that fire alarms suck, and this Sunday night (so technically Monday morning), his words proved eerily prophetic. My dorm's fire alarm went off at 2 a.m. No big deal, right? You go outside for a few minutes, you tough it out, you come back in, swear under your breath and go back to sleep.
This was not the case on Monday night. Normally our fire drills take place before I'm asleep, so this time, I was walking a little bit dreamily. I was disoriented. The best way I can describe it was a fever dream, but due to your body being cold, not burning up.
The entire dorm stood outside for a few minutes, of course with a couple people taking the burden on themselves to find out who didn't know to put water in ramen before you microwave it. Thank God for these agents of justice in a cruel society.
After about 10 minutes, we moved into the lobby of a neighboring dorm because it was cold and rainy. Excellent
I thought. We can stay warm for a few minutes until the firefighters are done.
And then a few minutes became an hour. Apparently there was smoke coming out of our mechanical room? We realized we might be in this strange, unfamiliar lobby for the long haul, and many of us began to monopolize furniture and warm spots on the floor to snooze until the fire situation was sorted out.
Trying to orient myself comfortably on a pleather recliner to sleep is difficult on a good day. It's nigh-impossible when the seat cushion has been stolen by someone else for a pillow and when I'm trying to curl up to increase my body heat. I become such a small ball of a person that I was liable to slide right off of the pleather, which I did. Several times.
Also, I had to be conscious about how I curled up lest there be unnecessary and inappropriate exposure of my - ahem - private squares. We're already in a strange, unfamiliar dorm at three in the morning; no one needs that sight added on to their worries.
After three or four hours, conversations became more important than they should have been. My roommate and our friend from down the hall had at least a 45-minute discussion about the Animorphs books that you probably bought several of at your elementary school book fair. During this literary Yalta, we were informed we could go and be escorted to our rooms by police to get emergency things out of our rooms, like clothes, for example.
We were escorted because God forbid some kids might sneak back into their rooms and go back to sleep since there wasn't a frigging fire in the building.
We got back into the building at 7 a.m. Many went to breakfast, many went back to sleep. But if you saw a haunted, empty look in someone's eyes on Monday, they probably lived in my dorm and they probably deserved an excused absence from their first classes.
Nick Philpott is a sophomore studying playwriting and creative writing. His record for most hours without sleep is 39, his record for time between checking e-mails at np714907@ohiou.edu is eight. 4
Opinion
Nick Philpott
