Sunday, October 24, 2010


Friday night, just as Parents' Weekend was beginning, so was the 2nd Floor of South Hall game of "assassins." How to play: each player is assigned a "target" player by the RAs. You must tag the target with a pair of socks to kill him. You then assume his target as your next. And so on, until someone wins. At around 8:00 pm on Friday, I received the email announcing that the game would begin at midnight.

By 1:30 am, I was matching a movie in a different dormitory building when my phone rang. I missed the call, didn't recognize the number, and thought nothing of it. A few minutes later, it rang again; another number I couldn't recognize. This time, I picked up in time.

It was someone from my hall; Ben had locked himself out of the room, didn't have his phone, and had been searching for people with my number. I had to come back and open the door for him.

A careful reader will not discard the juxtaposition of "assassins" and the phone call; he will assume that this was a trick to get me into the building, unarmed. I can assure you, it was not.

Nonetheless, upon arriving at South Hall, I was stopped by Ben at the door. "Hay personas," he said, "Afuera de nuestra puerta que quieren matarte." It was early. I wasn't thinking all that hard. "Hey man," was my reply, "You locked out?"

He was. We walked upstairs; all the while he spewed Spanish in my direction. About half way up the stairwell, I understood: there were assassins waiting for me at our door! I gave Ben my keys, asking him to run ahead, without me, unlock the door, and return them.

The minutes passed slowly. What was taking him so long? I paced nervously, keeping out of sight of anyone who walked by. I ducked behind a corner, then back the other way. Was he in on this? What was happening?

Voices grew louder. Ben was back, with my keys - but he wasn't alone. I could tell from the look on his face that he had tried to get away without others following, but, sure enough, I could barely react before a boy from a few doors down ran over to me and tagged me with a pair of socks. Less than two hours into the game, I was slain.

The "Brian" cutout on my door has since been borrowed indefinitely by still-living players as a method of confusing their residencies. Best of luck to them.

Nothing left to do now but watch and wait. I'm dying to know how it ends.

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