CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?! Hey—finally you found me! I’ve been stuck under here forever!
You’re probably wondering how I got into this pickle… well, it’s a long story. One night—gosh, it feels like years ago—I was stuck in line waiting to take graduation photos with Alma. I saw the sun tittering on the horizon line and realized that by the time I’d finally get the chance to shoot photos, it would be pitch black. So, I decided to pull a stake out like an impatient consumer camping out for a 75% discount on Black Friday. As I settled on the cold granite, tucking myself in with my Columbia blue graduation robe, I gazed at the stars, for what I didn’t know, for the last time.
Next thing ya’ know, I wake up caged like a wild animal in some aluminum jungle. At first, I thought: classic ‘ol me. But then, the panic set in. I did everything I could to get someone, ANYONE, to hear: I screamed for help, gnawed at my metal enclosure, struck my hand out through those cracks that you always accidentally slip through. But still… nothing. All that was left was the reverberating echo of my desperate cries. I guess they couldn’t hear my screams through their 4 out of 5 anticipated noise impact.
Days passed. Weeks, even. Time was elusive under there. Meanwhile, I underwent the most complete metamorphosis. I was a scavenger like my ancestors before me: pecking at little breadcrumbs like a measly NYC pigeon for scraps, hovering under the cracks of the bleachers during rainfall, mouth agape, just to get an ounce of water. I even filed at the bars with my mini travel-sized emery board. I had nearly lost all hope until you found me!
So, thank you, humble reader, for freeing me from that endless enclosure. I’m sure if I stayed in there a minute longer, I would have truly lost it. Hopefully, I can still make it in time for commencement: Go Columbia Class of ’97!!
