The day began as a relatively early wake up compared to the
majority of the summer, but in comparison to my high school schedule and the
schedule I’ll probably have to maintain for college, Lordy Lordy did I sleep
in! My family and I wrapped up my college packing, finished my Urbana ties, and
shipped out for College Park. Arriving here was a cacophony of confusion, with
checking in and moving in and getting everything sorted out. I met Quentin
Korn, my roommate for the year. Were I given a word to describe him, I would
probably use something along the lines of intriguing. He is a tall man, slightly
shorter than six foot, with hair that passes his shoulder blades, almost
draping him in a shroud and coif of black locks. His family (mother, father,
brother, and sister), was very pleasant and kind, and were incredibly enjoyable
to be around. Having now mostly moved in, I’ve gone on several adventures, and
spent some time enjoying Q’s vocabulary and his musicianship as a guitarist.
The Squirrel in the Cup:
After
ice breakers with the RAs and floormates, the 7th floor of Easton
Hall absconded to the North Dining Hall, where I enjoyed an interesting
sandwich called the Maryland Club, which was essentially a BLT with turkey and
(with my own addition of) a little hot sauce, turned out to be an amazing meal.
For something like $7, it was pretty dang good. After leaving the dining hall,
Krystal and Q joined me on a walk to The Mall. On the way, we came across a strange
and ultimately hilarious situation. Somehow, a squirrel had gotten its head
stuck in a parfait cup, and couldn’t get out of it. The suddenness of it
brought on a round of laughter, which very quickly shifted into concern for the
animal. After debating our options briefly, we decided that we should try and
help it, since it wouldn’t be able to eat with the cup stuck on its face. We tried
to get it to shake it off, which drove it up a tree, causing the deeper,
non-lid part of the cup fell off. While this opened up the squirrels ability to
eat, it did leave a dog cone on the squirrel.
The West Wind Blows:
After
the Squirrel in the Cup, I attended a Carillon Community Ice Cream Social,
where I experienced for the first time the almost divine sensation caused by
the consumption of UMD dairy product. Oh! What heaven that ice cream was! It
was smooth and sweet, standing betwixt the balance of soft and cold, with a
beautiful mint and chocolate taste to it. I’ll never forget that feeling. We
then engaged in a large icebreaker of what I can most easily describe as The
West Wind Blows.
Capture the Mace:
At
22:30, Stuart, Weddle, and I left Easton on a journey to McKelden Mall, where
we engaged in war. Kind of. Not really. It was a giant game of capture the flag
(except the flags with NERF® maces with glow sticks on them. The teams were
split into three battalions, with each man and woman given two white foam
balls. We had to try to steal the oppositions maces while guiding our own, all
the while chucking the balls at each other. It was almost like a battlefield,
with armies marching upon each other. After tense moments of waiting, a whistle
cried out, and a great din sprang forth from every man, woman, boy, and girl on
that field. Tyler charged forward, leading our pack by 20 yards, on to the
onslaught of Green players. Chaos and mayhem erupted and ensued, as the maces
became lost, and white balls hummed in the air, soaring over me, and around me,
as if warning me of their presence. I threw my rounds, not waiting to see if
they hit their mark, and ran on. I searched for Tyler in the confusion, and
when we met, we had to yell to be heard. We rallied players with us, and just
as we were about to charge, the Greens sent forth a surge, giving out a cry as
they rushed. White lit the air, and the thwop
of round striking flesh sounded. We had beaten back their advance, but at
the cost of our firepower. Having nothing better to do but charge on, the
command was given, and forward I ran, weaving through people and round a like,
searching for the flag, though it was to no avail. I circled round, regrouped
with more Reds, and charged again, only to be struck from behind by a
Red-thrown projectile. As we prepared for a third attempt, the Third and final
flag crossed the boundary onto our side, and the game had ended.
Now
that I’ve recounted my adventures, I simply must sleep, because heaven above
its four in the morning.
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