Written by Jessica Ardrey
Camper’s log: Jan. 19, 2011. 5:15 a.m. We’ve arrived at Chick-fil-A. It’s freezing cold, but the promise of free food for a year warms my soul.Plus, I brought some of those furry boots Harding kids like so much. We are so ready. The people next to us look totally unprepared. Noobs.5:16 a.m. Never mind. They have propane.9:00 a.m. “Good morning to each one of you. “That’s what everyone else is hearing. Not us. We’re in the race for eternal glory.We’ve begun making up nicknames for people to keep ourselves entertained. So far there’s Searcy, the underage kid who tried to sneak in and is allowed to stay, but will receive no free poultry. Then there’s Free Love, the blonde fellow who named himself sovereign overlord of four square, which his followers have started playing.3:30 p.m. Nothing has happened in hours. This day. Is the longest day. Of all the days.However, we decided Hairy, Beardo and Red Sweatshirt are in a band.8:00 p.m. They hired a DJ. They shouldn’t have.12:00 a.m. In the name of sweet, sweet Truett Cathy, stop playing four square already.5:30 a.m. We’ve started packing. It’ll only take about 15 minutes, whereas it’s taken our neighbors (the Village) about an hour.Take that, Villagers! How do you like your couches now, hmm? How’s that king-size air mattress when it won’t fit back in the box? Don’t forget your precious heaters! Ha!I can’t feel any of my extremities.6:00 a.m. They gave us T-shirts, paper hats and tiny boxes, which are believed to contain the coupons.The coups. The chicken coups, if you will.It is also notable that the shirt fits over all four of my layers, as well as my balloonish coat.I cannot resist the desire to skulk around declaring that I am, indeed, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.7:00 a.m. I’m back in the dorm. I feel weird. After reducing myself down to a normal amount of clothing, I feel so light that it seems I floated up the stairs. It’s either dementia, or I’m actually dead. Either way, I’m skipping chapel.I feel it is necessary to record my observations now. If I wait until I am removed from the situation, it will become greatly romanticized. It might include snow with a chance of Nazis, but there will definitely be a boy named Piggy with poor eyesight and a conch.But in real life, one thing remains true: We like free stuff. Given. I also present the fact that we will go entirely out of our way to get that free stuff.Let me spin you a hypothetical situational tapestry.It’s Sunday afternoon. You’ve gone through all your clean clothes. You’re out of Febreze and you don’t have money for any more Wal-mart undergarments, which kept you going for the past month.Do you flip cushions for quarters? Or do you drive to Kensett to do laundry at your friend’s aunt’s house?Duh.She makes the best Kool-Aid.Circumstance numero dos: You got out of your 8 o’clock early with time to grab a chicken biscuit before chapel, you lucky dog, you. You also may or may not have downed a gallon of Sunny D when you woke up. Needless to say, you’re quite stuffed as you ease into your seat in the Benson.But wait, what did Copeland say? Muffin chapel?! If only you’d known! The line is obscenely long. There is no doubt you’ll be late to Color Theory. And you’re so full.But you got that muffin, dadgummit. Therefore, I gather that its not so ridiculous to think a Harding kid would camp out in the cold to get her hands on free food.And so I emerge victorious. And in Chick-fil-A, as the poet hath wrote, “Every time I step up in the building, everybody hands go up.”JESS ARDREY serves as the opinions editor for the 2010-2011 Bison. She may be contacted atjardrey@harding.edu
