Every college, every university has its own set of myths and mysteries. Whispers mumbled in drunken ears, passed word of mouth over the years. Magical places, located in basements, along heating shafts, tucked around corners, snuggled by fiberglass insulation, lined with Campbell’s soup cans. Mmmm mmm good. One must be invited and escorted, bearing gifts as offerings to this sacred place. Bunkers, time capsules, a space to lay one’s head, to soak in every essence, a place to listen to whispers. The Promised Land, Happy Land.
Written on May 10, 2008