It Happened to Me: I Got Stuck in a Blizzard for 15 Hours

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image credit: SnowBrains.com

Hello, yes, it’s that time of year again. Everybody’s making the trek home, whether that involves putting your trust in an elaborate bureaucratic system hellbent on putting you in a metal tube that slingshots you through the air, or taking matters into our own hands and driving home. I live on Long Island, a fact that for some reason upsets every single person I know. This means, among other things, that it’s a nine-hour drive from here to home, and with City traffic and Long Island traffic, it’s more like a twelve hour drive home. So I usually fly, but I have notoriously horrible luck traveling. If I fly, there’s about a fifty percent chance my flight will get cancelled. I’ve been laid over and stranded in Charlotte, Seattle, LaGuardia, Columbus, and Washington D.C., and one time I booked a flight that didn’t exist.

[Editor’s note: I was on the same flight as Chris for Thanksgiving break and we did have to deplane and wait for a new one because our first plane’s door hatch was broken, causing a 2 hour delay. Bad travel luck confirmed]

So last spring break I thought, why don’t I drive home. I didn’t have a car, but my friend Lily did, and she lived just outside New York City. Eight hour drive home, take the train into the city, and from the city to the island. What could go wrong?

I got stuck in a blizzard for fifteen hours.

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It Happened to Me: Someone Stole My Identity on Instagram

So I was innocently scrolling through Instagram last week and was utterly disturbed to see a certain familiar face in my suggested users to follow. 

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It Happened to Me: A Collection of One-Line Stories

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We all have fun stories about meeting celebrities, punching windows, and being stood up by our professors that have so many twists and turns that not even a full post can thoroughly cover. However, some stories only need a single sweet line to burst into the world. Here are some of the Thrill Editors’ best, and shortest, “It Happened to Me”s.

“Campo caution taped up all the doors in Horvitz during a blackout while I was still inside.”

“I threw up in old side and just left it there.”

“I drunkenly tried to have phone sex in the middle of a Taft party.”

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It Happened to Me: I Opened the Mather Door with my Debit Card

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Kenyon likes to boast about how all our doors lock like they are supposed to. However, the Caples door reportedly doesn’t lock in the winter and there’s a door on the far side of Mather that you can apparently just rip open. But this story isn’t about either of those doors. This story is about a time when I went to one of the Mather doors, other than the one that you can rip open, put my debit card up to the card reader, and opened it.

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It Happened to Me: Stuck in the Higley Elevator

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SOMEONE SAVE THEM ~via gettyimages.com

BREAKING: Senior Kenyatta (Kenny) Viel ’17 got STUCK in an ELEVATOR! Kenny is a senior Molecular Biology major (with an Anth minor and an African Diaspora concentration), which means she spends quite a lot of time in the science quad. Last week, she spent way, WAY too much time in the science quad, getting stuck in the Higley elevator. Read on to hear her harrowing tale!

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It Happened to Me: I Broke the Bookstore Window and The Thrill Staff Made Me Write About It

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A guest post by Ethan Fuirst–senior, libra, window breaker

There’s a table in the bookstore that I’ve been particularly fond of for a few years now. It’s a little round ditty for two next to the window. It’s a perfect location– isolated enough to share private sagas of heartbreak and friendship, but it is also snug up against the window so passersby can see how many friends I have. At that very table, I’ve had some of the best conversations of the past few years.  More importantly, I’ve heard (and spilled) really juicy gossip at that table (using a volume just quiet enough so that the bookstore customers can’t hear what I’m saying, but just loud enough so that they know they’re missing something good). One could say I became a man at that table. At the very least, I’ve eaten thousands of over-priced chocolate-covered almonds there.

Like many other weekday nights throughout my college career, I was sitting at that Very Special Table on a Monday in February. The windows were painted with cute scenes of innocent kittens playing with balls of yarn. My friend Andrew Perelman (whose name I use in full so that if any future employers google him, they know about his involvement) walked by on the sidewalk outside and saw me at the table. He came up to the window and waved.

It should be noted that I startle easily.

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