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).
Monday, October 17, 2011
Oh, Friend of Mine, Where Art Thou?! Pt. 2
The Rabid Rabbit
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
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.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
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.
"Y'all Go to the Ramp?!"
I had told my friend John-Henry that I would go to church with him to a place called the Ramp Church, or the Ramp. I had heard some things about this church, that it was charismatic, dominantly African-American, and different. Once I heard that it was a dominantly black church, I began to grow excited because I've always wanted to visit a black church. It just seemed so interesting. Well... it was.
It's Sunday morning, and John-Henry, Jon, and Derek, get into my wagon, and we make our little trip to the Ramp. The building looks like a large, restored garage with rooms. Sorry if it made the church sound run-down; it was actually very nice inside, and we were welcomed so nicely. Everyone knew John-Henry.
The sanctuary had way more people than I thought it would. We took a seat in the back, probably because we were unfamiliar with this church, or maybe because no other seats were visible. John-Henry leaned over to me and said that he usually sits in the front with the ministers, then he proceeds to tell me that he, himself, is a minister. I was impressed, considering his young age.
A woman took the stage and was backed by a trio. We began to sing praises to the Lord; sadly, I did not know the opening song, but I did know the second one, “From the Inside Out.” It was jazzed up by the band to sound more like gospel, and we sang the same stanza repeatedly, "In my heart and my soul / I give you control / Consume me from the inside out, Lord." Over and over again. I was singing, but I kinda brought my voice down to a lip-sync because my mouth was getting tired. Then... THEN the women says:
"Sing it to the Lord this morning. If you don't mean it, don't sing it."
I did mean the words that I was mouthing, but I didn't wanna sing the words out loud. I thought that if I didn't, people would think that I was a heathen, that I would stick out. I felt like people were piercing me with their eyes even though I knew they weren't even looking at me. Needless to say, that made me a smidgen uncomfortable. I get a tap on my shoulder from John-Henry.
He said, "I'll be right back." Then he left.
We finished worship and some announcements were made which took some time. Roughly 10 minutes rolls around and he's still not back. I thought he may have gotten sick in the restroom or something, then Jon, next to me on the other side, says,
"Where the heck is John-Henry?"
Before I turned my head to search for him, a dark skinned, young man walks up in front of the congregation and grabs a microphone.
"How ya'll feeling this morning?!" he asked. "Let me hear it if the Lord is blessin' ya!"
Oh my goodness, it was John-Henry. Music began to play, and JH danced and sang. I thought it was such perfect timing when Jon asked that question. I laughed, to myself, at the comical situation. He came and sat back down after he finished his performance, and I whispered to him, telling him how good he was and stuff like that.
Then the tithe. The pastor gets up on stage and tells us to lift our tithe high up in the air; he says,
"Repeat after me... 'I have because I give, and I give because I have; therefore, I will never be broke another day in my life.'" I thought to myself, “How that could be true.” I know that God will bless us if we give, but that doesn't mean that you can't be broke. It might be in the Lord's plan, but anyway, just a thought I had at this time.
Afterward was spent singing, "Thank you, Jesus!" in repetition for a solid 5 minutes, dancing and whatnot. I thought this was strange, for dancing surely doesn't comply with the Liberty Way! We took our seats for the offering. A young girl, who WAS the dance ministry, danced an interpretive dance of sorts. A lady stood up on the opposite side and watched. I don't know who she was, but I think she may have been the little girl's mother because she seemed to have to dance down-pat as well. She would mouth some words here and there and make a fist as if saying, "Yes!"
The young girl did a wonderful job.
Now the preaching, the part I've been waiting for. He got up and opened his sermon with, "Brother, you have more blessings than you have problems." He continued the sermon, and he became passionate, running across the stage and doing some improv gospel preaching, while the band played along. There's no way I could convey how he did it, but I would gladly show you if you asked. People were jumping and shouting "hallelujahs", and the pastor jumped into the aisle and stood on a chair, waving the Bible in the air yelling Scriptures just like in the movies.
At the end, he told us to stomp on our problems. The band played, and people stomped and danced screaming, "Glory!!" We went back into a time of praise, and we were supposed to grab our neighbor's hand. John-Henry and I joined hands, and I knew that we were going to dance again.
I said, "I ask one thing. Please don't bring me out into the aisle." Have you seen me dance? Praise the Lord you haven't, and if you have... bless you.
"Brotha, don't worry. If I'm gonna go out into the aisle, I'll let you go." The music played and John-Henry let out an, "Oh, Lord!" He immediately let me go and got down in the aisle.
We left right after that. I had a great time at the Ramp to say the least; I mean, I wasn't bored and the preaching was really good, full of Scripture. The people were just more charismatic than I'm used to, and that's ok. I think that everyone should at least visit the Ramp once because it's an experience.
Note:
The Ramp is a real church, and I did actually attend. This is a general overview of my visit.
A Jerk, Bones, and an Ostrich, In That Order
So I've decided to take a break from the usual funny, unique experience I usually convey in my notes because I was witness to a situation that I can't ignore. It was after the brother-sister dorm bonfire at the Carson's when I get a text from Jessica inviting me to go to the Tilley Student Center with her and Lauren. Of course, I agreed to go. After scarfing down my Spaghettios, I sprinted down the stairs and headed toward the tunnel which connected Campus East to Main Campus.
I knew they were waiting in front of DeMoss, so I ran on and off until they were in my sight. I joined them, and we made our way to the Tilley. Upon arrival, we saw Pete and headed over, taking a seat at bar-like area. His friends came over, we'll call them Frank and Joe because I don't remember their names. Immediately, Frank began to make fun of some girl from Jessica and Lauren's old dorm. Lauren turned to me and told me that he was taking it too far. Regardless, I could barely make out what he was saying.
Minutes passed and Frank began to poke fun at individuals. I could see Lauren biting her tongue.
Suddenly, he said, "Wanna hear something funny?" He looked at Lauren. "You're mad."
"No I'm not," she nonchalantly replied.
"You know I didn't mean those things I said about your old roommate," he said.
"Yes, you did, but go on," she stated calmly.
He proceeded to talk about this guy who he thought was hilarious. His name was Bones. Coincidentally, he just so happened to be in the proximity. Frank retrieved him, and he introduced himself to us as Bones. Bones seemed to have some sort of skeletal deformity. It seemed that his skin was saran-wrapped to his structure, and one side of his chest popped out in an awkward manner.
Frank told all of us how Bones was gonna be a stand-up comedian because he's so clever or whatever; as Bones began to tell some jokes, Frank and Pete laughed, but Lauren, Jessica, Joe, and I didn't laugh. There was nothing funny about these jokes at all. It was here that I sensed the Frank was using Bones for entertainment at Bones's expense. I let it go, but the more I thought about it, the more frustrated I grew.
Somehow, ostriches came into the conversation, and Frank looks over to Bones and says, "Bones, you're a funny guy; I bet you can do a great impression of an ostrich." He did the impression and embarrassed himself (at least I thought so). The guys doubled over in laughter. I looked at Lauren with the face that writes "these guys are jerks."
I grabbed our trash and left the table because I needed to get away from the table, from Frank, the puppet master. After I tossed the garbage and returned to the table, Frank and Joe had left. I was fully relieved.
I think that Bones saw value in the fact that someone thought he was funny and wanted him to hang out. I don't know if he was socially insecure, but I don't think that anyone should have to be subject to such treatment. I regret not sticking up for him and saying something. I know not everyone at a Christian university is gonna act like a Christian, but that's no excuse in my book.
Note:
The events, people, and places in this story are all true.
Radiology and What About Bob?!
I was in a deep slumber this afternoon; it was well deserved after a hard day's work. The alarm had sounded once, but I had delayed it for another half hour. I knew that I should get up; after all, I didn't wanna spend my college days sleeping my afternoons away. My phone rang with a symphonic melody that startled me from my dazed state. I grunted at the thought of having to talk to someone I didn't want to, but when I looked at the caller ID, to my surprise, a name of my friend from the sister dorm, Jessica, glowed on the screen.
"Hello?" I answered wondering why she was calling me. I didn't mind at all, but we usually shoot texts back and forth during the day.
"Hey, Andrew," she said. "Are you doing anything right now?" I immediately found some motivation to get out of bed. I threw the comforter off of my body and slid down the side of the bed, resting my feet on my roommate’s bed frame, then gently grounding myself.
"No, I'm not doing anything," I replied taking a seat atop the edge of his bunk.
"Umm..." she was hesitant, "can you take Lauren to the emergency room? She got some blood work done, and they said for her to go the ER."
My heart began to race. I immediately began imagining the worse—what happened to me two years ago. I've never experienced a friend becoming ill, and I began to silently pray that this wouldn't be the case. "Yeah, I'll be right over to come pick you up."
"Thank you so much, Andrew. I'll see you in a bit."
I quickly moved to my dresser and slipped on a pair of TOMS shoes, grabbed my keys and wallet, and power walked out the doorway and down the stairs to my car. I started up the 1993 Honda Accord Wagon and began to drive toward the sister dorm where I saw Jessica standing outside in a Liberty University jacket, jeans, and sandals. She sat in the car and thanked me once again for helping out. Apparently, Jessica had been calling numerous friends for an extended amount of time, but none were able to help.
I put Nevertheless into the CD player and drove to the clinic that was across the street from Chick-fil-A. It was a tight squeeze pulling in to the parking lot because a Ford Expedition didn't know that it wasn't proper to be in the middle of a lane. After slowly pulling through the slim space, I spied Lauren sitting on the curb alone holding her cell phone, and the fold of her arm was bandaged.
"Hey, Lauren," we greeted. She handed me a piece of paper with directions to the hospital, but I already known the way because I've been there twice already.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I pulled into the emergency parking. We trotted into the waiting room and found it packed with citizens with emergencies. Lauren stopped as Jessica and I proceeded to the check-in counter. We sensed Lauren come to a halt.
"What's wrong?" I asked. We stepped back to her.
"I have to go to radiology..." There was a silence. "Where is that?"
"I don't know," Jessica replied. "Why don't we ask?" We went up to the desk and asked how to get to radiology. She gave us specific directions, and we followed them to our destination. After Lauren checked in with radiology, we were brought back into a small, dark waiting room. This is where it happens...
As soon as we came within the line of sight we hear:
"Why hello there!" a middle aged man sitting along the opposite wall brightly said. "You ladies can come sit over here." Lauren and Jessica sat in two neighboring sears by the doorway, and I sat near the man. His wife and daughter sat across from him, and they seemed unassociated, awkward, distant. I grabbed a family magazine sitting on the end table and began to flip through the pages trying to make some kind of noise in this silent chamber. "So..." the man began, "you Liberty students?"
"Umm... yeah," Jessica responded. I couldn't help but feel like "DUH, she's wearing a Liberty jacket," but I would never say such a thing to someone older than me.
More silence.
"Yeah, my daughter goes to Liberty." He pointed to his daughter across the way. She waved and greeted herself politely. "Do you stay on main campus or where do you stay?"
Lauren spoke first. "I stay in the circle."
"We stay on east," she said looking at me. She glanced down at her phone.
"OH, FANTASTIC!" he exclaimed. "That's where my daughter stays."
"Really?" Jessica asked. She addressed the daughter, "Where?"
She seemed slightly timid, "11."
...
Time passed with some more weird questions and talk about his daughter doing volleyball, and all the while the wife barely spoke. But then a question grabbed my attention quickly.
The man asked, "Have you heard of the movie What About Bob?
"I LOVE THAT MOVIE!" we all replied with smiles stretching across our faces.
He began, "You heard of Lake ________?" (I don't remember the name of the lake). We nodded our heads. "Well that's where they filmed the scenes for the vacation. It's about forty minutes north of here."
"That's so cool," I said.
For the next few minutes we began to talk about the movie, sharing quotes and favorite parts and what-not. By this time, Lauren had already gone and come back from her visit to the radiologist. The man and his family finally were called out for the results of his daughter's testing.
"Ok, Lauren," Jessica began as she held her phone in her hand, "your mom is like freaking out and she keeps texting me asking about you. You know she's been doing this since we picked you up." Her phone vibrated obnoxiously. "It's your mom; you answer it."
Lauren let out a sigh, "Fine. Hello? ... Yes it's Lauren! Don't you know you're own daughter's voice? ... Yes, I'm fine. We're waiting for the results of the testing... No, mom, you don't need to come down... I'm serious.... Ok, I'll call you later… Love you, too." She handed the cell phone back. "Gah! She's like freaking out. I could tell that she started to cry when I hung up." She dug her face in her hands.
"It's just because she cares about you."
"Yeah, I know."
Another vibration. "It's Pete. He says that he feels bad that he dropped you off and left you. He's coming here. My phone's gonna die."
"WHAT!? Why is Pete coming?" Lauren had that look of ::ugh! why me:: written in sharpie across her face.
More time passed as we waited for the doctor to open the door with the results. We sat there, and we sat there… and we sat there.... and we sat there...... and we sat there.................... AND WE SAT THERE!!!!! But FINALLY, the door opened.
A younger adult with dark skin and dark hair entered the waiting chamber. He wore an iron-pressed button up shirt, khaki pants, and nice shoes. I thought he was the doctor.
"Pete, what are you doing here!!?" asked Lauren rather loudly.
So this is Pete. I've been told that Pete was hilarious, but I guess that only applied to Jessica because whenever there was an awkward silence, she would burst in laughter claiming that it was Pete's face that made her laugh (even though there was nothing funny about his face). I couldn't tell you how many times she laughed, maybe 5... or 50... or 500... or maybe 5000. 5,000,000! Who knows, but it was a lot.
The real doctor came and all was well with Lauren, and we were free to leave. What a happy ending, don't cha know!
Note:
The events that make up this story are just a relative overview of what really happened in an elapsed 3 hours. The man was really creepy, and What About Bob did actually occur in conversation.
My Brush With Death And A Deer
It was a wonderfully cool night. The setting sun painted the skies a plethora of purple, orange, and pink—a truly picturesque scene. My friend and I were walking back from dinner in carefree conversation, laughing and enjoying each other's company while the breeze wisped by petting my skin.
We neared the tunnel which connected East Campus with Main. The sound of voices echoed in my ears and the volume of a whisper was increased greatly. Words were bouncing everywhere within my range, and as we neared the end, they faded into the distance like the end of a track on a CD—slowly fading until inaudible.
My friend and I parted ways, and I walked along the curb of the wall. I looked down and saw that I was nearly 4 feet off the ground walking on a stone ridge. I heard footsteps in the distance that sounded like a horse racing toward me. I quickly turned around and, to my surprise, a doe leapt at least 5 feet away from me, landed on the concrete walkway, then proceeded to gallop across the street into the forest.
I don't know where that deer came from, but where ever it is, I'm sure that Mr. Green Mantis is there living his peaceful life in solitude. This encounter may have been another connection the long lost friend that consoled me in my darkest hours. I hope you make it to Mr. Green Mantis. Let him know that I miss him, and that I hope all is well.
Note:
The friend I walked back with from dinner is indeed a human being, not an insect or wild animal. All the events which this story contained are true.
My Best Friend... I'll Miss You
So after being here at Liberty University for about 2 weeks, I've made some pretty good friends that love the Lord and want His will for their lives, but I am sad to say that no pets are allowed in the dorms except fish and hermit crabs. These rules are easy to abide by. It was on that fateful day as I trekked up 4 flights of stairs, that I saw him basking in the glow of the hall light outside my door. He was long and slender with enormous hands that hooked at the wrist.
During the course of the next few days we had become the best of friends. I would sit outside and tell him my inner-most feelings, and he would kindly and gladly listen to my problems and steer me through the tough situations; he was a psychology major from where ever he was from, now he's undecided. He never said a word, but allowed me to fix the problems myself by searching within the deep crevices that held the answers.
It was one day earlier this week that I heard a fracas outside. I opened the doors and saw that one of my dorm mates had been verbally attacking my friend, and he fled in tears and a plethora of emotions. The derogatory phrases used during this time are too obscene to even be thought about, for as I write this documentary, a drop runs its course down my cheek and splashes to an oblivion. My dorm mate stood there with a firm fist, clenched teeth, and eyes of fire. His face, if given the opportunity, would boil with malice, and his nostrils flared with fury.
I stood in awe, mouth agape, at the sight of my confidant flee the scene. Thoughts raced through my head: "Is he coming back?" "Why is my dorm mate so mad?" "Is he hurt?" These all needed answers. I spent the next few days in a depression, wondering if he was okay, if he was alive. No trace, no contact, I thought this was the end.
I was eating dinner at the university dining hall, the Rot, when one of my good friends comes to me and tells me that there's something outside my door that needs to see me. I immediately ram back with high hopes, and before my eyes, there he was just as we were meeting for the first time; he basked in the glow of the hall light outside my room. I felt such rejoice in my heart, that I clapped in excitement and gave a shout of praise! He met my embrace and I told him that I was glad he was back.
We talked all night, and as the 3rd hour of the day approached, I decided to get some well deserved rest for my hard day's work. I opened my door to say good morning to my friend, but he was gone. I don't know what his reason was or where he went, but I do know that just seeing him this last time has made everything all worthwhile.
Mr. Green Mantis, I know you're out there somewhere. If by some chance you read this, I want you to know that you will always have a place deep down in my heart that will forever remain yours. You were the best pet that a college student could ask for, but I understand your need for freedom. Go and thrive with your kind in the wilderness where praying mantises belong. I just ask one thing. Please don't forget the times, and there will always be a place outside my door for you.
Note:
"None of the events in this story are true, except for fleeing and returning and disappearance of Mr. Green Mantis."