Life in the Asylum

A number of people have been wondering if I am dead. Well, I believe I am alive. Maybe.

It just so happens that around 3 months ago I checked myself into an insane asylum. The kind of hotel they reserve for the real maniacs. Outside of the institution, it is referred to as a "University".

The journey to my biannual check-in was especially entertaining this time round, as it strictly enforced Murphy's Law. It all seemed to be the usual day drive to the crazy isle of monkeys known as Vancouver Island. Then the car broke down past the booming metropolis of Merrit.

Even though we had a perfectly fine ditch and a sizeable amount of beer in the car, it was decided that showing up for school the following day took priority. Don't ask why.

About a half hour later a nice tooth deficient tow truck driver picked us up and drove us back to Merrit. The trip was quite entertaining as the driver explained how the tow truck driver that met us first was fired from BCAA (pronounced Buhkaah). He also spoke freely about his many sexcapades, lamenting that every time he wanted to get it on was interrupted by a call out to tow another busted car.

After the mechanics in Merrit finally figured out they didn't have the part, we had to resort to taking the bus to Vancouver. For those that have not experienced it, the Greyhound bus service is the most organized and synchronized business on the planet. To make a long story short, we ended up taking the bus to Abbotsford then cabbing it to Langley and spending the night at a friend's house.

Catching the first ferry to the island meant I wasn't going to be late for class. Well, the important ones anyways. If there ever existed such an animal.

After running to class, I soon found myself wondering why I was in such a bloody hurry to get to school.

Then things went bananas.

One of the roomates decided it was a good idea to host a party and put up advertisements for it all around the residences.

Party time eventually arrived, and to my surprise, females showed up. Not so much to attend our party, but to our biochem neighbour's birthday party. Everybody ended up hammered out on the balcony anyways.

Around 2:00 in the morning a nice woman decided to drop off two MASSIVE cakes (the cakes you need a big piece cardboard to carry). One was cheesake, the other chocolate. Luckily for us by that time all the weak willed partygoers had left the scene, leaving all the benefits to us cake-eating diehards. The woman didn't say much except that she worked at a fancy restaurant that made more food than what was required. Beer and cake. It was all dreamlike.

Everything seemed to die down in the succeeding weeks, swamped by one useless project upon another. Then, to save us from this boring abyss was fair amounts of dry ice.

At first everyone had some fun making bubbly smoking water. Soon after a debate arised as to whether the pressure from this escaping air would be enough to blow up a plastic pop bottle. A plan was hatched.

We began by choosing a suitable bottle - a 2 L Pepsi pop bottle. After filling it with hot water, we threw dry ice in it and sealed the lid. Naturally, it became pressurized and rock solid. So we threw it off the balcony a few times. Nothing really happened, after a while we managed to bust it open and shot water everywhere.

Realizing the experiment required more pizzazz, a smaller bottle and more dry ice was used for round 2. Soon the 150 ml bottle expanded to about a litre in size, prompting the group to evacuate the bathroom. After a loud BANG! heard by most of residence the would-be Oppenheimers discovered they had successfully coated every wall and ceiling with water. Since then, fun times with dry ice has become a bi-monthly event.

The real goal of this madhouse, like many others, is to make us useful and productive members of society upon reintegration. Various methods are used, including electroshock if you happen to rig up your circuits lab incorrectly. It is not exceptionally successful, being rather quirk-forming and heightening one's previous issues - as time goes on, peers just seem to get loopier. But it does serve to beat the spirit out of the inmate so they won't do much damage once released into the wild.

It also serves to teach us a few things.

The most important lessons of this summer semester:

• Walls are soft
  Fists, roomates aren't as soft


• Dry ice is cool
  Cheaper and safer than C4


• Fruitflies multiply
  They don't quite understand the contraception bit yet


• Merrit is a hole
  Longest wait for a bus in my entire life


• Cake attracts women
  Keep some in the fridge and they'll keep coming back

Someday I'll figure out how to put this knowledge to good use.

Until then I'll stay in my padded cell.