Thursday, February 11, 2010
Mat made veiled reference to this event in an earlier post, but the full exposition is important for posterity so I present it here. It was freshman year at BYU when two cases of normally innocent freshmen high jinks proved to be a dangerous mixture. Our apartment was on the first floor of Robison Hall. Some girls in the ward decided to play a prank on the fine young men in our neighboring apartment by burying the bicycles of said fine young men in a pile of old newspapers. The bicycles were locked up behind a walled enclosure near the back doors of our two apartments. As fate would have it, a few boys in the apartment immediately over us decided that it was a prime night for shooting bottle rockets off the back porch. The results were predictable. Mat and I were sound asleep when we heard noise in our hall. Aaron threw our door open. "Fire! There's a fire!" Unimpressed, Mat and I resumed our slumber until Aaron returned to awaken us for good. I guess Mat and I were too tuckered out from looking up Mr. T animations and studying for Chem 105 because fire was not sufficient cause to wake us the first time. By the time we tumbled out of bed most of the big flames were extinguished and a wet pile of ashes and melted bikes remained. Fortunately heritage halls has a brick and concrete exterior so the damage didn't extend beyond a few bikes. Good old freshmen high jinks!