Sep 12, 2006
Shootin' From the Hip
by Jay Guthrie
The recent monsoons that have showered Liberty got me thinking. Back in the day -- fall of 03’ to be exact -- Liberty was blasted by a much more treacherous storm than this. Ahh, Hurricane Isabel. I remember it like it was three years ago. The rains came on a Thursday with a vengeance. That night at hall meeting the dorm elders were discussing the possibility of having to build a sea worthy vessel out of cypress wood to house the sister dorm and us. They never did.
The next morning I woke up to find that school had been cancelled due to rain. Rain? I have missed many classes in my life due to mounds of snow and sub-zero temperatures, but rain?
Either way I wasn’t complaining, I had a bigger problem on my mind. I woke up to something else that morning. There was a puddle under my bed. Now don’t go jumping to conclusions. It was a different kind of accident.
Apparently, over the course of the night my Dorm 7 penthouse suite had developed quite a leak atop my bed. My roommate was still somehow asleep on the upper bunk. The water didn’t faze him. He looked like a beached manatee with barnacles draped over his peaceful body -the barnacles were actually fragments of disintegrated ceiling tile.
I was actually excited by the giant hole in our ceiling. It gave me a chance to get my tools out and play Bob Vila for the day. It even gave me an idea about a new HGTV show called “Dorm Room Repairs,” but that is another column.
Everyone else was out body surfing behind Dorm 4 that day while my roommate and I were coming up with a solution that would baffle even the most complex minds. Supplies were limited but we made the most of our simple hand tools, duct tape and LU trash bags. The finished product was admired by some and laughed at by most. We had successfully taped a trash bag around the hole to stop the leak. Only two college deadbeats’ minds could master such an engineering marvel.
Not thinking our idiocy through, we left for some muddy aquatic fun with the others. That night we got back to find our ceiling patch had developed a little bit of sag due to the two plus gallons of water it had accumulated in our absence. Well, we couldn’t just take it down and drain it. This had now become a science experiment with a betting pool on the side.
How much water would the trash bag hold before it broke? The stakes were high. We had to leave it alone.
Sure enough, about 3 a.m. the bag and an estimated five gallons of water came crashing down. A surge of energy was instantly brought back into the lifeless sea cow that lay above me. Luckily for me, I was on the bottom bunk, but I still took a shelling. After coming to my senses, I was immediately reminded of the first day of the semester when my roommate declared those famous Chris Farley words, “I call top bunk.”
Looking back I realize we could have avoided the whole situation by just moving the beds out from under the leak, but the thought honestly never crossed our minds and besides, that would have made way too much sense.
*At this time I would like to throw in a small editorial comment regarding last week’s column. Apparently, I assumed too much out of the student body when I discussed the culinary creation known as “The Cheesy Western.” I received a lot of feedback asking where one could savor this fine delicacy. The legend of egg, relish and stellar customer service served up with a smile can be found at The Texas Inn, in beautiful historic downtown Lynchburg.
Contact Jay Guthrie at email@example.com.
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