Its 3:53 AM. You know, because when you woke up with your throat hurting you knew it was obscenely early so you checked. You blearily stumble out of your room, grabbing a Nalgene on the way. You walk down the hall and into the lobby where the water fountain is, nudging a wooden wedge into the space between the door frame and the door, shutting it a split second after you realize that the wedge is too short. But its too late. The door has locked. You have no phone, no ID. You are locked out.
There is a blank moment before the panic sweeps over and the gravity of the situation hits you. In that instant, you feel like you've been marooned on a desert island, left behind at a gas station on a family road trip, a dozen other scenarios far more serious than the predicament you are currently facing.
Not life-threatening in any way, that moment of stupidity has far reaching consequences. You try the door several times, knowing even as you do that it will remain firmly in place unless you have that magic strip of plastic that proclaims you to be a Wheaton student. It's not that bad, you reason, you'll find a way in.
But one by one, your plans and options fail. You need a key card to get into the basement, to any of the other floors. There is no night watch staff at Williston. Its an (early) Sunday morning, so no four AM cleaning crew. There are only sixty people in your dorm, and its a little too late for anyone to just be getting home and far too early for anyone to be up. The GRA's room has a discouraging sign telling you that between the hours of 11PM and 8AM, you're on your own. Call Public Safety. (Yeah, I would do that but I don't have a phone.) The other helpful suggestions ("Call your roommates!" "Call the RA on duty!") are not so helpful, for obvious reasons.
You pace the lobby. You memorize the decor, the dedication plaque, the bios of the UCC staff. You run through plans. Maybe if I go over to Mac-Evans, there are more people there and a Night Watch staff, you think. But that would mean getting through two ID card swipe only entry doors. Too risky. Better to stay inside your dorm than get stuck outside.
You bang on every hall door, cursing the Victorian structure and its thick, thick walls that you once found so charming. Surely someone will hear you through the door, the closet, the bathroom, and their living room and come help.
You consider just starting to scream really loud. Or pull the fire alarm. Then decide that this is your own fault and that all of these solutions would cause more problems than they'd solve. So you go curl up on the lobby couch and wait. Doze off, have dreams about being let in by various people (the cleaning crew, someone's mom, an exchange student) which end with you back in bed but as soon as you go to sleep in the dream you wake up in real life and realize all over again that you are still stuck outside.
You pace some more. Go get some more water.
Time passes differently. You stare at the clock for a while, 4:46, 4:47...then you fall asleep and its 5:23 (Almost thirty minutes! Time's flying!)
Finally, finally, at 7:58 an early bird comes down for church. You jump on her.
"Hi! Canyouletmeinokaygreat!! HowlonghaveIbeenhere? Uh..."
You stomp back inside, very tired, to your still open door, lights blaring inside. (How did your roommates not notice? How? I could have been lying in a ditch, or kidnapped.)
The next day, after the grumpiness has worn off, you tell a few people. Then regret it when they start saying things like:
"Aw why didn't you call us? We have a couch!"
"Why couldn't the RA let you in?"
"You should have just gone to Mac or something."
Or, my favorite, (and for context, our room is a story off the ground and our windows face an alley that is contained by a ten foot fence)
"You should have gone behind Williston and thrown rocks at the window so your roommates would let you in!"
Always bring your IDs, kiddos.
