Quiet Hours

It's 2:31am, Sunday morning. After finishing two movies and attempting to record music with Michelle, Eric, James, Pete, and I are all asking ourselves why we continuously stay up late and do stuff like we do. It's fun, I said. We all agree.

So, what happened that had great significance to our after quiet hours nightly revels. One, we found one of Eric's cookies in one of the stalls in the bathroom. We started flinging it around the floor like a hockey puck, and eventually tossed it into the stall occupied by Noah, another freshman. Then the one upperclassman who is present in the bathroom-- Tyler, dared Eric to eat the cookie for $5 of change. Eric didn't do it. Apparently he doesn't like rock-hard, germ-infested, hockey-puck snicker doodles.

With all this hullabaloo starting to unfold, Pete mentioned it being late, and seeing the clock, I ran out of the bathroom and into his room, where, fully dressed, I hopped into his bed and got all snuggled in. Pete came in and mockingly threatened the survival of my future children, so I thought it best to make my exit.

I opened the door, and lo and behold, I saw James (my roommate) and Eric (the cookie keeper) standing outside the door in the hallway. Sort of. James is standing, but Eric is lying on the ground with his arms wrapped around James' leg.
Yeah. Weird. That's what I thought.

So, seizing the opportunity to cause a little trouble, I took my water bottle, which I had been holding the whole time, and poured the remaining two inches of water all over the prostrate Eric. With a lurch, he leapt up and hurled himself at me, ramming my stomach with his head and shoulders. I, sensing this happening (in more ways than one, let me tell you) rode out the blow, and leaned over him, as to spread my weight out and not let him succeed in flipping me on my back. then, after regaining my footing, I sat down, with my arms bear hugging Eric's torso, his head in my side and his arms wrapped around my waist. Then, he played dirty, and tickled me.
Yeah.
Not cool.
I'm really ticklish.

I let go, and somehow escaped his ravenous onslaught. It may sound silly and slightly disturbing that 19 year old guys are tickling each other, but hey. Whatever you have to do to get the upper hand in an impromptu wrestling match.

At this point, Minha, one of the Koreans on our floor, comes staggering out of his room (which was coincidentally right next to where we were fighting), looked at all of us with a confused and sleep-filled look in his eye, and told us in a groggy voice:

"Its quiet hours, guys"

All I Feel is the Rain

"I want to get off campus." she said.

"Oh me too. Let's go. Where do you want to go?" I said.

"I don't know..."

Thus began this adventure, on Tuesday, October 25.

Sometimes its you just have to escape the walls of Moody Bible Institute. Its suffocating, walking the same tunnels, seeing the same people, greeting each other with the meaningless,

         ...."Hey! How are you?" 

             "I'm good, how are you?"

             "Good"

             "Good "....

.... conversation. Nobody really cares. It’s just our own little way of saying "hi" whilst seemingly being concerned about your neighbor’s life. 

Sometimes you just need to escape.

Michelle led the way, slowly bringing us farther and farther into the depths of the city. I could hear its pulse, smell its perfumes, feel its skin, and see its exotic and dilapidated beauty. As we came to intersections, we would take whichever walk signal came first, which made out for a merry time as we put as much distance between us and Moody as possible, as fast as possible.

Our first stop was the river. We walked down to the water level, along the picturesquely lit walkways enticing and enchanting to the eye. We walked then to a sort of tourist center, which had a scale model of the city laid out on the floor. We studied it intently, seeing if we could figure where we were, identifying places we’d been or places we wanted to go.

Then somehow, we ended up at Millennium Park. We saw the Bean, the fountains, and moseyed our way down to the stage in the amphitheater in the center of the park. The amphitheater was "closed", but that didn't stop rebellious us from slipping past the barrier and heading down there anyway. It lasted about 10 minutes, before a security guard yelled at us to leave. Woohoo! Social irreverence!

Hours slip by as two people who enjoy each others company lose themselves in conversation. Our topics ranged from spirituality, college life, our homes, our siblings, our friends... life in general. We had conversations that counted; that definitely weren't shallow and forgettable. It’s great when you can finally breathe and share your thoughts with a fellow Christian with ease and without fear of judgment. 

We wandered and wandered and wandered the bustling streets, and slowly made our way to Navy Pier. The only problem that with our getting to Navy Pier was how we were getting there. We were walking along an exit of some sort that was branching off of what appeared to be a highway or viaduct. Danger was in the air as we walked against the direction of traffic, which was going by at rather high speeds. At one point we were going to jump a railing that appeared to be dividing the road from the sidewalk, but in fact it was dividing the road from the ground, which was a nice 50 feet below us. THAT was fun. Apparently in our walking we had traversed up to the second story of a kind of strange traffic hub that converged a bunch of roads. I felt like we were characters in an action movie, running down the side of, and sometime middle of, the road, looking for someway to escape the imminent danger of a reckless driver. Finally we did arrived safely to the refuge of the sidewalk, and once more felt more at ease about our journey.

Upon our arrival, we decided that Navy Pier really wasn't the place to be, and our real destination was the beach. It was here that the real fun began. A slight drizzle began to fall from the sky, and both Michelle and I agreed that it was about time to have a real cloudburst. We hadn't had one yet since our move to the big city, and we concurred that it would be great to get soaked by a good 'ol Midwestern downpour. So, with that thought still hanging in the air, it began to rain. hard. really. hard. God had answered our silent prayers.

We ran along the beach, barefoot and whooping and shrieking, splashing out into the lake, then scurrying back, fleeing from the biting cold of the water. We then walked along the shoreline, on a kind of cement courseway that ran along the edge of the lake. At this point in our little foray, the practical jokes began. I, the gentleman, after jesting to push Michelle in the lake, assured her that I no longer had any intention of doing so. We walked then closer to the edge, staring deep into the dark, cold depths. With a yell and a jump, Michelle faked me into thinking she was about to push me in. I leapt back with a holler, and she burst into a fit of giggles. Little did she know the consequences of such a scare. I started toward her, with a straight face and a definite purpose in my step. She could see that I meant business. She shrieked and darted away, trying a reason with me that she was kidding and she was sorry. I wasn't about to let this one go. I got to her, scooped her up in my arms, and started toward the edge of the water. I have to say, I scared her a LITTLE bit more than she scared me. And no, she did not go for a swim. :)

After walking the shoreline for a ways, we turned back toward the city. The lights of Chicago transform the skyline into a bejeweled crown, masking so well the depravity that actually lies within its heart. We walked State Street, past the high-end clothing stores like Prada, and Brookes Brothers, and other stores that I would never step foot in whilst at college. Heck, I'll probably NEVER step foot inside one of those stores. But that's fine.

We finally arrived back at campus wet, tired, and happy. It was an evening well spent. 

And I felt free.

Male Bonding

"Everything degenerates after midnight. Conversation, intuition, tact, inhibitions, reason, etc. With that said, I don't know if I should call what happened tonight with a male bonding experience, or just irreverent social chaos." ~ ATL (FB Post)


College life is a hectic trip that only lasts as long as you can stay awake. For me, that time period ranges from from about 6am to 2am, though occasionally I'll venture into the recesses of 3 or 4am, and wonder after those two hours of sleep what the heck I was thinking. But hey, that's life. College life.


Tonight was one of those nights that you remember for a while, or until a new and more memorable night blots the previous one out. This night all started after curfew had brought us derelict rogues back under the common roof of the Culbertson dormitory, floor 11. Though we had left the study halls, libraries, women and crisp autumn weather, our night was far from over. 


We started out with our RA reading us Ferdinand the Bull in his room. I'll have to say, a group of 8 guys all packed in one room listening to a bedtime story must have been quite the sight. After an entertaining half hour of listening, making jokes, laughing, and wishing that it was our own mothers reading the story to us and not our Korean RA (no offense to him by any way), a group of us slowly wandered the floor from room to room. We would lounge on our buddies beds, talk about life, women, music, philosophy, and occasionally pepper the conversation with a little masculine vulgarity that was always neatly reined in by peer pressure and our own Christian consciences. As the night wore on, the buddies beds were yearned for by their owners. When this happened we would simply move on the the next available room.


We started in Trevor and David's room. Eric, Peter, Noah, my roommate James and I were all cozied up in Trevor and David's beds. I had the Trevor's guitar, and was working on a new song I was hopefully going to get out of my haphazard labyrinth of a mind and onto paper. David was trying to get his homework done, but after the fourth or so time of taking off his headphones and joining the conversation, I knew his work was shot. After an hour or so, Trevor was ready for bed, and was desperately trying to wrestle a very comfy Eric from under his covers. In the end, we were booted, and the two inhabitants were left in peace.


We moved to Peter's room, which was a little more roomy, as well as more populated. Our little gathering of Peter, Eric, James and myself was joined by Eddie, Danny, Minha, and Bennett. We lounged about some more, talking, and slowly letting our verbal guards down. I played Peter's guitar, still working that elusive tune in my head. This little soiree was wilder than the one in the last room we were in, and Peter made it all the more better by dishing out some snack foods and a Redbull (Mother, I must confess that it was indeed your son who made himself victim to that villainous and intensely unhealthy drink). After slamming that down, the volume level of that room got a mite louder. I think my lowered state of reason egged everyone else on to even more let their own inhibitions fall by the wayside. I have have not heard Peter laugh so loud nor Eddie be so giddy or merry at one time. Truly, we had reached the epitome of a good time.


After a good hour or so, around 1:30, after surviving a barrage of pistachios, bad jokes, and Courage Wolf witticisms, Peter decided that if he was to survive the following day in Academia, he had better evict the horde of ravenous striplings from his residence. Sadly, he achieved this task, and we all them moved to my room. Here the party was definitely coming to a close, as even we rogues and carefree and irresponsible blokes were feeling the night wear us down. I cleaned my half of the room, and desperately tried to get my roommate, now in bed, to go to his closet and fall prey to and get jumped by Eddie, who was had secretly hidden himself there. This little jest failed, after Eric opened the closet and blew the whole operation. After a few minutes (which in fact was a half an hour), everyone decided to call it a night. The clocks read 2am.


There is something about 2am that makes it the perfect time to go to bed. Its commands the farthest safe boundary of a good nights sleep for those who get up at the earliest hour of 6am. So, our little mad little party drew to an end. Sort of.




Now, at 3am, I'm doing laundry and blogging.


Self-preservation be darned. 
"Bite off more than you can chew, then CHEW IT".
(Heck yes, Courage Wolf)


~ Aidan