During my freshman year at Willamette, I stayed in the dorm over Thanksgiving weekend. Lausanne Hall was nearly deserted. I went home for Thanksgiving dinner, but for the rest of the weekend, I was by myself. It was nice.
Late Friday morning, the phone began to ring in the room next door (in Lausanne 200 — I was in 201). Nobody was there to answer it. The phone continued to ring. After a few minutes, I went looking for an RA or an RD, but of course they were gone for the weekend, too.
When I returned to my room, the phone was still ringing.
I tried to concentrate on my studies (yes, really) — I was probably writing a paper on Dickens' Hard Times for our freshman seminar, World Views — but the incessant ringing of the phone was too much to bear.
I left the dorm, walked to downtown Salem. I ate lunch in the food court at the mall (greasy pizza from Sbarro). I browsed at Jackson Books. I took a stroll along the creek. When I returned to my room, the phone next door was still ringing.
This would not stand.
I tried to pick the lock of the door with a credit card, then with a safety pin. I failed. (I have no idea how to pick a lock). The phone continued to ring. I went outside and stood in the yard, looking up at the second floor corner. One of the windows in the room next to mine was open a few inches!
I ran upstairs, threw open a window, and climbed out onto a narrow ledge that skirted the second floor at window height. Carefully — I'm afraid of heights — I inched my way to my neighbors' window. I feared it might somehow be braced from the inside, but it wasn't. I pulled it open, slipped inside, and picked up the phone.
There was nobody on the other end, of course. Someone had probably dialed the number and waited for an answer, and when there was none, hung up the phone sloppily.
I found myself alone, in the quiet of grey late afternoon, standing in my neighbors' room. Hmmm.
I suppose most people would have just left the room. Not I. I snooped.
I looked through desks, I played Alanna's tapes, I thumbed through Karen's photograph album. I looked under the beds, I looked in the closets. I snooped.
I wasn't looking for anything in particular, and I didn't want to take anything — I was just having a look around.
When I was satisfied that my neighbors were normal, everyday folk whose drawers held nothing special, I went back to my room to study. I left their door unlocked, though, in case the phone should ring again.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2005 — School Pictures Recently, Mom found a box of stuff in her attic, a box that included such goodies as the following PAINFUL grade school photos of yours truly. These photos were taken in the late seventies. We all were ugly then.
2003 — Extrovert How did I get here? When did I pass from being and introvert to being an extrovert?
2002 — Minor Redesign This site isn't the most elegant one you'll find, and it's not the most technically advanced site you'll find. In fact, there are a lot of things that are less than ideal about it. But I built it. It's mine. It reflects who I am.