I’m writing this from Dunkin’ Donuts while the radio blares Mandy Moore, insofar as it is possible for her to be blared. The circumstances which lead me here are actually quite the story.*
I walked in to my room two days ago to realize that the bulb had blown. Which left me in what Lovecraft would call an indescribable abyss. I’m sure dark gods were involved, but that is not the crux of this story and I’m forcing myself to move on right now. One way or another, I have been prevented from reading or writing or doing other things which require sight. I proceeded to try and use the internet, and it proceeded to try and use me back. Don’t think too hard about that statement, because I’m going to explain it: the internet didn’t work, and I could see it coyly mocking me from the other side of the screen. For a while the Microsoft Wireless Client registered me as connected, a brazen joke between the two of us. When my stern expression did not falter, even It conceded and I was notified that not only could I not connect to my preferred wireless network - no such network existed.
I still don’t know where the connection went, perchance a digital River Styx beckoned. It has not returned, and I have no means of righting this damnable wrong.
Dunkin’ Donuts is interesting in Chicago. They are very rare in WV (do any exist? I wonder), but they are on every single corner here. I can turn and walk for ten minutes in any direction, even diagonally and sometimes vertically, and I will hit one. There’s a 90 percent chance I’ll pass a salon on the way, another of Chicago’s little quirks. I do not condemn it, it is useful. Wireless internet - an abundant natural resource which is hard to acquire since people have discovered “internet security” - flows freely from Dunkin’ like a river whose current summoned me in my dire need.
In two days time, I swallow my fear and get in a taxi. Should the trip meets its destination, should I not careen off a cliff in the driver’s haste, I will be on a train headed toward my castle. The next nine+ hours will be spent in high anticipation as I attempt to read, video game (a verb now), write, and sleep to occupy my mind before the glorious reuinion to follow.
Yes, the time of my return is nigh, ready to usher in the Final Morgantown Saga. There is one year left, after which Zach will no doubt join his beloved in DC, Ricky will return to school, and I will pursue my game development. There is a story that will be written, a glorious ode to our last triumphs and tragedies, and the words will be transcribed here.
*You know I’m a liar by now. It shouldn’t surprise you in the least just how mundane that story was.