Monday, March 9, 2009

Serenity, Part 2

Now that I've described to you the place where I was most serene and did some navel gazing on that subject, I feel the need to point something else out.

That is also the scene of one of the top 20 most anxiety-inducing moments of my life.

See, that area that I told you about in the photo...well, I would sit there often during my senior year, when I was writing my senior thesis. It was a great place to read Virgina Woolf and contemplate moments of being. But such a topic, once you wrap your head around it, tends to swallow you, and you lose track of time.

And then the entrance gates to the cemetery shut. And you think, no big deal, I'll just run to the exit gates. Plenty of time. But since you were there reading, not running, you don't have your running shoes, and you don't make it in time.

So, you are locked in the cemetery. A cemetery with very high gates all around it. There is no way to climb over those suckers.

Did you bring your cell phone with you? Of course not! You don't want to be interrupted while you are contemplating Virginia Woolf! In a cemetery!

Scrolling through your brain, like one of those neon-lit electronic banners in Piccadilly, is this: YOU ARE SPENDING THE NIGHT ALONE IN THE CEMETERY WITH NOTHING BUT A VIRGINIA WOOLF NOVEL.

So, you do what any self-respecting college senior who has never broken out of anything before would do. Try and fail to climb the fence. Try and fail to climb a tree to jump off of to get over the fence.

Then, get smart, run to the nearest empty trash can, kick it over, and with the aid of the tree, the fence, and the trash can, make it over the fence. Flee for your life back to your apartment.

Go over to the management office inside the cemetery the next day, apologize for knocking the garbage can over, offer to do a little community service, and have them laugh you out of the office, because, lady, don't you know that all you had to do was come knock on our door? There's always someone here.

I'm famous at that cemetery. I'm not sure that's a statement I ever wanted to make in my life.

Oh, and remind me to tell you about the time I had to vault into my apartment through the window.

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