Picture this: it’s a nice brisk morning and I have exited Horvitz at 11:00am after my 9:10am sculpture class. I took my time cleaning up, so dare I say, it might even be 11:02am.
My Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule entails the normal exit out of the heavy Horvitz doors towards Sunset Cottage heading to my 11:10 sociology class in Ralston. I normally put in my head phones, place my hands in my pockets and stroll on down, but on October 18th, 2017 something went terribly wrong.
I take my habitual turn towards Sunset, hands in pockets, headphones in ears, eyes fixed forwards and next thing I know, I physically sink into the ground. I respond with a very audible noise, something akin to the Gambier tornado siren and then look down at my feet, to realize I am 4 inches deep in cement. I glance around to see if anyone has seen my confident, yet oblivious trot into the cement that was so elegantly paired with my cry of confusion, but no one is in sight.
I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare.
In my youth I had always imagined coming upon a fresh patch of cement and thinking of the perfect thing to write within it. Maybe something subtle. Maybe something scandalous. This situation was not the sneaky, rebellious moment I had imagined.
I decide to run back into Horvitz.
When Graham Gund built Horvitz in 2012, he only put those automatic sinks and hand dryers into the bathrooms. While this might have been his way of making 2012 the height of modernity, as well as protecting mother earth, it was not great for stuck in cement me. This little, eco friendly move made it so I had to continuously wave my shoes back and forth under the facet head, while the sink filled with a watery, cement mixture (a delicacy, must be ordered ahead of time). The next step in this disaster was for me to ball up toiler paper to help the cement remnants down the sink and further wipe off my shoes.
After I finish fully trashing the bathroom I also try to clean it up but end up making it all worse. I leave the scene of the crime.
Once again, I exit out of of Horvitz and turn towards Sunset, now late to class at 11:13. I glance towards my antagonist—the patch of cement—to find that someone has moved a cone in front of it.
I got stuck in cement and it was one of the dumber things I’ve ever done.
The new hole that’s coming is of serious concern. Watch out kids.