I have a story to relay for you, Tumblr. About life, about perseverance, about sticking it to the man, and about super cool secret passageways.
In the late 70s/early 80s, Illinois State built a brand new dorm building where the rooms all had two closets, one on each side wall. But because they built the dorm on the cheap, the backs of the closets didn’t have real walls, only thin pieces of pressboard. That was all that was separated one dorm room from the next.
Once students figured this out, they cut big holes in the pressboard so that you could get to the adjoining dorm room by opening the closet door and scooting through the hole in the back wall.
They did this in room after room, until they had effectively built a huge secret passageway connecting every single dorm room on the floor.
The creation of this secret passageway led, almost immediately, to a culture of endless, enormous, authority-proof dorm parties. As soon as anybody knocked on the door or the party room, everybody could bail through the closets and be seven doors down the hall by the time the R.A. or campus security were let in. Or they would keep all the alcohol and what-not in one room, and have all the people in the next. So even when the R.A.s KNEW there was a ginormous party happening, they couldn’t do jack shit about it. It was total non-stop chaos.
Some of the bigger hooligans would commit all manner of mischief on campus, and then high-tail to this dorm building, knowing that once they were safely inside any room, there was no way the cops could ever find them.
Every summer, the school would replace the ripped out pressboard with sturdier and sturdier material. But students just got stronger saws, and kept rebuilding the secret passageways, year after year.
Eventually, only a few years after they built it, the school gave up and tore the whole building down.
Even after spending a vast amount of his time in them after all these years, he’s never grown used to them. The zombie like passengers shuffling from terminal to terminal, the feeling of restlessness because the moment he is actually able to close his eyes, he can hear a fan gasp or the airport employee they have escorting him clear their throats to get his attention. He loves going places, he loves discovering new things and people, but he loathes the process of getting there. He has tainted, painful memories from airports. Rushed goodbyes and promises of coming back as soon as he can. Accompanied with hugs that didn’t last long enough and hard kisses with rapidly blinking eyes and a muffled rough voice. But most of all, he hates the loneliness traveling instills. The self dependency and the waiting. He’s a patient man, yes, but there’s something about waiting in airports that throws him off kilter. He always has more fun when he’s squished on a 14 hour flight with the lads, or Jeff. Someone he can talk to past the whooshing sound of the aircraft and in between the hours of tossing and turning uncomfortably with his achy back in the tiny aircraft seat.
But really, he doesn’t mind traveling when you’re with him. Although he can’t quite argue that he’d mind doing anything with you by his side. He thinks, it’s because you’re a simple person to travel with. You don’t complain when he wants food from a place in terminal 5 and your flight is located in terminal 2, nor do you mind when he manages to snuggle up to you like a small child in the aircraft, draped over your lap and finally at ease as you read above him or lay your own head back against the seat with your fingers mindlessly running through his locks out of habit.
It seems that only Roscoe Blvd is experiencing this freak snowstorm at the moment. We will keep you updated as more develops.
Remember to stay warm, have a flashlight and emergency blanket, be careful on your commute today, and a bucket full of salt to ward off demons. They don’t like the winter season for some reason, but best to play it safe.