Life > October 25, 2007

By Austin H. Jones | Staff columnist

When I first got to Wake last August and started planning my life, I noticed that each year the administration magnanimously grants us a full day for fall break.

As I compared my schedule with all my friends from high school – who commented on the fact that they had more of a fall break than me – I couldn’t help but feel like I had been wronged.

But looking back on the events of this break, I grimace when I think about what could have happened over a fall break more than just 24 hours tagged onto a weekend.

After making the five-and-a -half hour trip to Hilton Head, where my friend’s roommate’s aunt’s brother-in-law’s sister (or someone close to her) has a house, the five of us pulled into the driveway at about 10 p.m. and took our stuff inside.

We all plopped down on the wrap-around couch, watched a movie and settled in.

The next afternoon, the activity picked up a bit.

Just as I was stepping out of the shower, I heard bloodcurdling screams of “Help!” and “Ow!” from two of the girls downstairs.

Immediately, several scenarios crossed my naked mind, one of which involved me running downstairs in nothing but a towel and finding that no one was hurt after all.

I took the risk of getting to the injury a few moments late and stayed upstairs until I was fully clothed before going downstairs.

I followed the two girls’ shrieks to the main bathroom, where I walked in on them almost completely enveloped in bubbles.

They screamed at me to help them, but when I tried to clear the bubbles, they yelled for me to stop and pointed to their camera instead, telling me to take a picture, silly.

After I had taken their picture and the bubbles continued to grow – despite my attempts to bail them out – we realized something was wrong with the Jacuzzi.

So I told them to step out so the water level would go down and they could help me move bubbles out of the tub and into the shower or sink.

Both of them began to stand up, and as the water level sunk down below the water intake, the jets made a noise like that of a piano sliding down a San Francisco hill on the backs of a dozen cats.

Just as quickly as they had stood up, they dropped back down into the water, covered by the thick layer of bubbles.

Soon, the other two had come to the bathroom to watch the two girls frantically try to contain the bubbles within the tiled area around the tub.

After a good hour or so of holding the bubbles at bay, it finally dawned upon one of us to press the button that had turned the Jacuzzi on.

It worked, and the bubbles subsided.

I will never grasp why we didn’t try it before – we were all straight-up sober.

Regardless, we were victorious.

Reporting only my victories would be a very misleading portrayal of my endeavors. Hence, I impart unto you a yarn detailing a concurrent defeat.

We went down to the ocean Saturday with the intention of spending the afternoon swimming and relaxing on the beach.

The water was really calm (yet very murky) with almost no waves, and the beach sloped off almost imperceptibly, so that we waded about 50 yards out before the water was above our waist or so.

It was here that an idea struck me. My inner monologue went something like this:

“How hilarious would it be if I took off my bathing suit and let it float mysteriously to the surface?

“That would be extremely hilarious.”

“I’m going to do it – right now.”

So I took off my pants, gave them a little push and waited for them to emerge from the murky depths.

Then, I kept waiting. About 15 more seconds passed, and I was still waiting.

That’s when I realized that my swimsuit didn’t float.

In one massive breath I told everyone what I had tried to do and asked them to help me find my pants.

We searched for 10-15 minutes but finally gave up.

It was upon our forfeit that I realized my predicament: I was 50 yards out in waist-deep water, nude.

So, since I didn’t particularly feel like exposing myself to all of Hilton Head Island, I carefully watched the foot traffic and waited for a window during which I could sprint to my towel.

I made it to the beach flashing only the four people I had left in the water.

In conclusion, I would like to thank the administration for keeping our break short.

If it had been any longer, I’m sure more people would have been drowned by bubbles, more people flashed and more people attacked by ninjas.