Legend has it that there was once a great bright light that came from the sky. This “sun”, as it was called, was said to warm the land and keep it dry and comfortable.
I have been in Newport News since Saturday and I have to admit that this legend becomes more unbelievable by the day. I had no way of knowing that my Ford Taurus would act as a submarine the day I moved back onto campus. The not-so-ironic names of the James and Warwick River dorm buildings were not lost on me as I watched the rains flood the hallways of the first floor.
From the high-ground of the second floor I watched as the flood waters receded but the rains did not relent. Nervous rumors spread of President Trible’s plan to build a giant water craft with which to carry two students from each class. …The rumors have not yet been rejected by the administration.
Illogically, the temperatures in each of the academic buildings seem to be trending downward. The David Student Union is roughly the temperature of your average house-hold refrigerator. McMurran Hall has been approximated at Maine temperatures and the Forbes Science Hall is a glacier waiting to happen.
We are all soaking wet when we struggle through the doors of our respective halls. When confronted with the sub-zero temperatures hypothermia sets in fast. First the science students lose feeling in their fingers, then the government majors develop a slower heart rate and they fall asleep in their classrooms. The theater kids are the last ones to go because they have developed a tendency to share bodily warmth in the costume closet.
Realizing that we are ill-prepared for the unforgiving conditions, some of us attempted to seek out natives who would know how to survive. We realized, to our horror, that we kicked them half-way across the continent 200 years ago. Moral is as low as our hot chocolate supply and none of us dare make a Harris Teeter run because none of us have scuba gear.
We must keep calm and carry on. Wish us luck.