Oh, Friend of Mine, Where Art Thou?! Pt. 2

So it has come to Jessica and my recent attention that Timon and Pumba are no longer paired together like they used to be. It seems Pumba has gone astray, and taking with him the heartwarming smiles, hugs, and friendly mannerisms that he used to make those around him feel loved. Poor poor Timon, feeling helpless without the affection of his best friend, scaled the aisles helplessly in search of someone to share good times with.

It was one fateful day that he stumbled upon his friend, whom Jessica and I have named Little Brother. The name Little Brother makes sense because he ever so slightly resembles the puppy on Mulan who, in essence, is Little Brother. Anyway, the first time we had spied Little Brother, he was sitting on the end in the row in front of Timon. Timon was fighting the urge inside himself to fall asleep; he was nodding off consistently like he was watching a professional athlete twirl on a trampoline, and I was glancing over to see if he had indeed fallen asleep. He was gone --- gone in a world of comfort and relaxation, though I highly doubt the hunched over position he snoozed in was relaxing at all.

But as I peered over to get a quick look at our friend, Little Brother, whose gaze was fixed upon my profile. Great! Now he thinks that I'm looking at him. We might as well add him to the list, and here we are today talking about the finding of Little Brother.

And it came to pass that the next day in convo, the two of them met. Timon smiled gleefully, but his vessel was empty, the expression of happiness was not in his grin. It seemed like deep down he was sad, wishing thoroughly that his old companion were there to fill the void that was desperate for his affection. Little Brother and Timon go through pretty much the same routine as when Pumba was around, minus the hug. There are some high fives, knucks, exchanging of words and smiles.

But the real question is: Where did Pumba disappear to? Did he and Timon get in a spat or was Pumba disposed of...? The world may never know.

Note:
Little Brother is indeed someone who exists and has taken the place of Pumba, though not in the heart of Timon (so it seems).

The Rabid Rabbit

Snowflex - a popular, new year-round winter sports attraction set on a mountain covered in an artificial snow-like turf. Many students enjoy spending leisure time carving the two slopes available to them, and easy/intermediate slope and an advanced slope with one large jump that cuts across the whole trail. Snowflex is brand new and is currently incomplete, and they are constructing new addition(s)—formally known as Phase 2.

How the Snowflex operates: after renting your equipment and signing a liability waiver, you are to first test your skills on the Bunny Slope to see if you are prepared to master them on the regular slopes. A monitor is to give you the go-ahead when se/she believes you have the proper amount of control on your skis or snowboard.

However, my first experience was not one such as that. I did not want to go to Snowflex, but I was hanging out with my friend, Jack, who did. Since he was driving, there was no way of getting out of it. We arrived, signed out lives away on a waiver, and rented our equipment. I rented a snowboard and Jack received skis. We made our way to the Bunny Slope, and I was having trouble getting my board on. I was one of those moments where it felt like all eyes were on you, but in the real world, they have much better things on which to devote their attention.

I finally strapped myself in and stood up. I noticed some friends were nearby so I bid them tidings of great joy. Forgetting my feet were restrained, I took a step and fell forward. This time, some people glanced over, but I chuckled and played it off like it happens to everyone. So this time, I hopped over to the edge of the wide incline and watched as many others slid down the hill with ease. It took a good amount of time before I conjured up the courage to propel myself forward down that 30 foot death trap. And away I went...

Halfway down, I try to turn and fall flat on my front side and rolled two rotations. I fight my way back to standing up, and, as I looked around, I noticed that I'm the only one on the slope of all the people that were there. The momentum was minimal as I began my adventure down the last third of the slope. Within five seconds (if not sooner) of my trek, I fall again on my rear. By this time others have ventured down the hill. I become frustrated with myself and hop over to the pulley that takes you back up to the top. I thought that you pulled yourself up, but little did I know that it was a machine that ran the ropes. I grabbed a hold and was yanked back down to the ground.

I've had it at this point. I was just too embarrassed to do anything again. So I unbuckled myself and walked up to the top. I finished the evening by watching Jack and TJ ride the intermediate slope for 45 minutes. I strongly dislike that Bunny Slope. Those bunnies have come back with a vengeance; beware all doers of good.

Snowflex - a popular, new year-round winter sports death trap set on a mountain covered in an artificial snow-like turf that may cause extreme embarrassment, pain, irrational fears, or lack of sleep.

Note:
The events in this story are all true.

Oh, Friend of Mine, Where Art Thou?!

It was a normal day in convocation. Jessica sat the right in the seat beside me and Derek to my left. Before the service started we were talking about the usual nonsense: school, funny stories, funny people, and the like. For weeks in convo, Jessica and I have been watching these two guys who seem to be the best of friends. Code names: Timon and Pumba. On one occasion, Jessica and I have made eye contact with these familiar strangers, and one occasion soon became two; and two developed into three. Are we the victims of their people watching as well? Ironic...

Timon was a short guy with a goatee whose facial features resembled that of a meerkat, if I were to pick an animal. His main characteristic is reserved; he doesn't really seem to talk to anyone in his section other than Pumba. But the main thing that I notice about him is when he sings. His eyes are sealed shut revealing defining creases and the corners of his mouth point downward. Timon's face flares the emotion of the intense pain that would remind one of kidney stones or chrones disease.

Pumba, on the other hand, was a burly fellow with a full beard, big hands, and hairy arms. He, like Timon, doesn't seem to talk to anyone other than is dear friend. Unlike Timon, however, he appears to be angry while he sings. By his actions during worship, it is clear that he seeks intimacy with the Lord.

Every convocation, Timon meets Pumba in the usual spot, a little farther up than Jessica and I sit in the section to the left. Pumba will have seats saved and, upon the arrival of his companion, will stand up and give him a huge bear hug, a high five, do knucks (that's "pound it", "daps", etc...), or something of that nature. Smiles will run across their faces from ear to ear, and it is obvious that they are enjoying each other's company, a truly heartwarming sight.

One gloomy day, Timon dragged himself into convocation with a fog looming over him. He walks up the stairs passed Jessica and me in search of his confidant. Jessica and I knew what he was doing and also began to scale the rows looking for Pumba, but he was nowhere to be found. I could see that the weight of his heart increased ten-fold when he knew that he would be by himself today. He looked down, a sign of misery and woe, and trudged up the steps to take a lonely seat on the edge.

Timon, Jessica and I are truly sorry for your upsetting turn of events and hope that during the next day at convocation, you'll be reunited with your pal, buddy, companion, confidant, and friend.

Note:
Timon and Pumba are actual people and do exist. Jessica and I people watch, and the eye contact was indeed awkward all three times.

A Hockey Ticket and 2 Dollars

I pull into North Campus for some good Liberty Flames hockey. My friends, Jon and Bryan, go inside because they have their tickets already, leaving me outside... ticketless. But it was ok; Cameron had a ticket for me and said he'd be there in roughly 20 min. No big deal. Some texting could pass the time easily. I sit down outside, using a pillar as support for my back.

So as I'm texting for a short while, I hear a faint,

"Umm... excuse me?" an innocent feminine voice asked. I looked up and noticed two cute Liberty students standing near me. I immediately disregard anything that's going on on my phone because I think it's rude to text while people are talking to you. "Do you have a ticket to the game?"

"Not right now I don't," I replied, "but my friend is bringing mine and should be here in about 5 minutes."

"Oh, well we have an extra one and wanted to know if you wanted to come sit with us." That gesture was really nice, and I would've taken it if I was going to the game by myself.

"No it's ok, really. I don't wanna leave my friend. Thanks for the offer, though," I said.

"Ok, well, see ya later," one of them lightheartedly said.

So Cameron ends up coming shortly after and hands me my ticket. I tell him what happens, and he says that I should've taken it and asked the girls if we could save a seat for my friend. Well what's done is done. We head inside, tickets in hand as we pass the ticket scanner. Cameron's ticket scans... a green sign that reads GO is displayed. I hold the ticket for the man to scan... STOP! I think to myself that the ticket must've been scanned to quickly or something of that degree.

The man asks for my ticket, he says, "Well, it seems that this ticket is for tomorrow's game." Cameron asks if there is any way we can exchange that ticket for one that for tonight's game. They denied the request, but luckily for me, I was wearing a shade of red; so it was $2 instead of $5 for admission.

I realize at this moment that I could've gotten in for free, and sat with 2 pretty girls. But regardless, I did enjoy the game, AND there was a fight that was between like 5-6 players. It was awesome.

Note:
The events and make-up of this story are true.

The Spider Insider

So it began as a brisk morning. The wind nipped at my face and ears, but I was oh so cozy and toasty in my warm winter coat. It began as a normal day with convocation in the morning, then lunch with some humanities on the side.

GNED rolls around (that is contemporary issues), and I'm sitting in a seat waiting from my friend Bryan to show up. I decide to adjust the inside of my jacket because a part of it had folded over, and as I look down into my coat, I see a spider creeping around inside of it. I look up quickly and stare around the room with wide eyes. No one in the large room is paying any attention to me.

So I look again to see if my mind is playing a trick on me. It's definitely not! So I try to forcefully squish the spider in the fold of my coat. Mission: FAIL. I try again, but this time agitating the area by squeezing multiple rapid times... with little success.

The 8-legged creature is pacing its way up to my neck. I just couldn't take it! I begin to slap my chest frantically in hopes that this demon will just fall to the ground so I can every so lightly KILL the wretched thing. Mission: SUCCESS! I step on it inconspicuously, but when I look around, I see many pairs of eyes on me. I give an awkward wave, then go back about my business.

Nevertheless, it was an experience I hope never happens again, but at least people were entertained.

Note:
The events that make up this story are true. The room seats around 180.

And Away We Go

It was the first day back from fall break and, somehow, there had been an immediate change in season. The warm had gone, and the cold had arrived bringing with it icy wind and rain. It was on a night such as this that I walked down to the tunnel bundled up in my winter attire; the scarf nestled closely around my neck was keeping protecting it from the chilly gusts, and the wool peacoat was an impenetrable shield shrouding my body while retaining heat.

I can see that Jessica hadn't arrived at the tunnel yet, so I stepped inside to break away from the breeze. It wasn't too long before she came down the stairs, and we met. She made various comments about what I was wearing because it may have been a little overdone, but at least I looked "cute" according to my female friend.

We wait in front of the Vines Center for a very short while before Lauren comes into plain sight. We headed over to the Rot for dinner. At the Rot, we basically only talked about fall break and how Lauren and Jessica went to see the house filmed in the making of the movie What About Bob? (please see note #3). I couldn't believe that they actually went. I was slightly jealous just thinking about the fun they must've had on their little journey, but I had previously taken one on my own.

We finished up our dinner and headed out the doors back to the warm comfort of our dorms. We cross the street and head toward a building to cut through when I hear,

"Andrew, the bus is here! Come on! It goes to East." Jessica had motioned me over to the bus labeled L3 which headed toward the Lynchburg Inn. I looked at Lauren, then back at the bus, then at Lauren, then the bus, and ultimately decided to take the bus. There was no way I was going to risk illness.

After taking my seat behind Jessica, we began to wonder why Lauren didn't follow us on. It wraps around close to her dorm. Oh, well. I glanced behind me to see who else might be on the Lynchburg Inn bus. I spy Josie from Jessica's dorm, and apparently they had already waved and said hello and what not.

The bus starts to head toward East, and I remember that there's a ramp for the highway before the clubhouse stop.

"Jessica, I really don't think that this is gonna take us to far entrance." The bus stops at my stop, but I didn't get off because I didn't want Jessica to be stuck on this mass transit vehicle all be her lonesome.

"Well, let's be positive about this. It came to the clubhouse on Sunday to pick us up for church. I have homework to do anyway," she stated.

"Ok, but I really, really think that it's gonna go on the highway."

"Andrew... no it's not," she said so sure that she was right.

Well, she wasn't. There we go! Off to the highway! Jessica's face was in pure shock that we were stuck for a minimum of a half hour while we went to the Inn. I immediately burst out in laughter, a laughter of "wow, this is going to be fun."

"Oh... my... goodness!" Jessica was priceless at this moment. She turns back to Josie, "Can you believe this?" Turns out that the bus driver had told Josie that he would stop at the clubhouse, but he forgot, obviously. "Andrew, have you been to the Inn?" I shook my head no. "Well, I couldn't live there under those conditions."

I had absolutely no idea what the heck she was talking about. She was rambling on in a whisper about the Inn, and I didn't really pay it much mind though I was looking straight at her with a huge grin on my face holding in a laugh. I couldn't believe that she had this much to say about it. It was ridiculous. I could not even take it!

But there you have it. Lauren was already in sweat pants lying in her nice, warm bed by the time we got back. We were on that us for 35 minutes. A 35 minutes that won't happen again, but it was rather toasty on the bus.

Note:
The events that took place were true. And the only reason that I know Lauren was snuggly warm was because we called her to tell her that leaving her in the cold has come back to bite us.

Well, My Piano Teacher's Russian

Aural skills, the class that I dread, composed of sight-singing, clapping rhythms, and melodic dictation. From the first day I heard that I had to take this class, I thought this was going to be the end of my musical career (in college anyway). I enter the classroom and quickly befriend this girl named Libbie. We began talking about our piano teachers from home and how we now have a certain number of required practice hours. We talked about our audition for piano lessons with the heads of the department and a plethora of musical topics. All of a sudden, Person C butts into the conversation.

"You know I improved my whole audition," she said sticking her nose in the air. It was obvious she had a desire to be the best at everything right off the bat. "Well, my piano teacher's Russian, and I had 4 hour practices; and I had to practice 24 hours a week... 36 before competition."

We were in amazement. "Dang," I said, "That's a lot of practicing, and lesson." I turned back to Libbie and said, "You know, I wish I went to a music magnet school or something. That would've been so cool."

She agreed, "Yeah, that would be cool!"

"You know I went to a magnet school when I was 5 in the UK," Person C said.

"Really?" we inquired.

"Yup, I had to take an entrance exam in Kindergarten just to get in, and I took 10 classes and got A's every single one of them. Most people only take 3 or 4 and get like C's or something, and every year, we had to take proficiency exams to see if we were smart enough to stay in the school. Of course, I was top of the class."

I looked at Libbie, like seriously, this is when we began to become annoyed. Someone from the back spoke asking how well she can sight-read.

"Oh, I can look at a piece and play through it once, then play through it the second time perfectly, flawlessly, without a mistake." Thank you. You just said the same thing 3 times in a row. She continued, "So my major is piano performance, though I really don't need to practice that much. I'm double majoring too." She never said what her other major was.

...

A week of so passed, and every day before Aural Skills, I would ask God to give me patience and to allow me to bite my tongue. He definitely helped me. As I walked in, I saw Sadie sitting in the back by herself. I went over to her, and we began to talk about Finale software. At Liberty, you get extra credit for doing four-part writing on some form of Finale software.

Here she comes, "You know I have every kind of Finale program for the computer; I basically mastered them all. I have Finale ________ which is $400 and Finale _______ which is $250."

Ok, that was all for that class. After going back to the dorm, my friend, Jack, showed me some video on the internet about some girl named Penelope that always had to be better than everyone else. It was hysterical. Thus the new name for Person C was spawned. Thanks, Jack!

So one day, she decides not to show up for class. Libbie finds Penelope in the Religion Hall and asks, "Why weren't you in class today? You know we had a test."

"Well, 2 minutes ago I couldn't even talk, and I'm already a double major. But I actually picked up a third so it's no big deal. Being a triple major leaves more room for absences."

Well regardless of any other encounters. I have found some loopholes in her awesome-ness.
1. Why does anyone need a 4 hour lesson and practice 24 hours a week? It seems a little far-fetched.

2. I thought magnet schools were only high schools. And her English accent is absent if she grew up there.

3. Doesn't being a triple major (if even possible) create more of a hectic schedule and less room for absences?

Note:
Penelope is indeed a real person, and all the above statements actually occurred.