The Mission

The Mission

Humans: 20-ish
Zombies: 25-ish

Objective: Deliver 5 packages to random people in 5 specific locations and collect signatures. Meet back at safe zone

Our Plan: Split into two groups, secretly give the packages to runners with cat cards for the correct buildings. Let the groups distract and hold off the zombies.

The Story of Group 1.
This one guy who has clearly played before decided to select the two groups like soccer teams, with captains picking their player. He took Group 1 and selected all the biggest, strongest, fastest men in the group and then, with almost no deliberation with Group 2 set off, gung ho, to complete his objective.

They were cut down at the stairs.

Scott took the Norton package and ran. A fellow named Andrew took another package and ran. Everyone else became infected and the horde grew.

Group 1:10 seconds into the mission

Group 1: 20 second into the mission

The Story of Group 2
Our leader was this great, level headed guy called Casey. When Group 1 drew almost every zombie to them we simply turned and walked out of the pit. Easily stunning the two zombies who had been left to guard us.
We took a winding path across the streams with our objective being to get to Central, Reynolds and the Courtyard. Central and Reynolds are two residence halls which are quite out of the way from the main campus but also quite close together. We elected to send David and another guy to deliver those packages, seeing as David lives in Central and the other guy had a friend who could let them into Reynolds. The rest of us had a more dangerous task. The courtyard dining hall.
By this time the horde had finished devouring Group 1, all who now had become zombies.  We were hunkered in Balsam, a nearby residence hall and they were waiting for us at the all 3 dining hall entrances. To give David and co a chance to split off without being followed, our main body decided to launch a diversion attack on the zombies. Then we decided to also use this opportunity to deliver the 3rd parcel. Me and another guy were elected to do this. Him because he had experience, good military strategies, fast legs and a cool head. Me because I am a coward and had stuffed my pockets with more sockballs than a human being should be allowed to carry at any point in their life.
The attack was launched and we made a break for it, out the back door of Balsam, around the back of the dining hall to where there were only 4 zombies posted. We crouched behind a flower bed and discussed our strategy. I would go out long. He would come in short. We'd take them from the front and the side. We had my bajillion sockballs. We couldn't die. 1, 2, 3...we ran at them.
We took them down swiftly but my partner almost got tagged. It was a close thing. We ran inside, and he offered the packages to people who were eating. Everyone he asked declined it suspiciously.

"Let me do it. I'm a girl. People will trust me more".

I said and lo and behold, the first people I offered it to accepted it. I guess sexism is alive and well in the South. We got our signatures and then ran for the exit. Both other doors were blocked and we knew that there were zombies hiding behind the pillars. Then we remembered the door we'd come in. those zombies were still stunned! We pelted for the door (in the middle of the busy dining hall) and burst out the door. 

'Who still has stun time?'

My partner roared out the door at the zombies, his voice going a little squeaky from the adrenaline.

'WHO STILL HAS STUN TIME!? HANDS ON YOUR HEAD IF YOU STILL HAVE STUN TIME!!!!!'

We ended up pelting them with socks anyway as we ran past, just to make sure. But we were free. We had the signature. We made it back into Balsam and our comrades looked at us with adoration, wonder and amazement. 

"You're alive?"

Casey said with a look on his face like he'd didn't believe we'd both make it but was glad we had.

'Both of you? GOOD WORK!' 

And he fist bumped me. I felt my first rush of achievement. I had survived against incredible odds. I txted Scott to find out where he was. He was heading back to the safe zone. He'd also delivered the package to Norton. David and his companion were off safety on their way and Andrew, the other surviving runner from Group 1 had also made a signature. Things were looking good for the humans. 

We were waiting for word from David when the zombies who had been barricading us inside Balsam suddenly made an exodus for the iceskating rink. They were going to let us get the signatures. They were going to get us on our way back to our home base. We reconvened with our runners, compiled our signatures and began to head back. That's when Scott started txting me from inside the safe zone.

'I'm safe'

'Still human and proud. Got about 13 z guarding the place your best bet is to go around the back. only 4 zombies guarding the back stair'

'Hurry. I'm so alone! Back way is still pretty safe!'

'Back way!!!'

'Go the back way. Not up the front steps. There are no zombies that way'

So...I thought it was pretty clear that we should go the back way. But my group wouldn't listen to me! I told them and told them and told them but in the end David and I decided to go out on our own and head around the back way. I was not going to be part of a suicide run. 

We ran around the front, did not see any zombies. Ran around the side, still no zombies. Heard screams and howls and cries for help echoing over the building as the humans were ambushed. We ran. Down the stairs. Still no zombies. Then the zombies saw us. I knew it because the pitch of their bloodthirsty cries changed. I wasn't looking at them though. I was just watching my feet. I was taking the stairs two at a time. Running. Running. Down, down. Blood pounding in my ears, David just behind me. There could have been zombies waiting right at the bottom of the steps. I could have plowed right into them. I was just so focused on my feet, on getting down those stairs as fast as possible. I hit flat ground, threw my sockball at a zombie in my way and flew into the safe zone.

'YESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!'

Scott ran over and we hugged a hug of people who thought they'd never see each other alive again. I danced around in glee, jumping up in the air. So sweaty, So exhausted. So exhilarated. It was the best feeling of my life. 

And then I turned around, just in time to see David taken by the swarm.

My comrade.

Had I just waited a little bit longer and helped him sockball his way out of it we both would have lived. It's a decision I will regret for the rest of my life.

When the mission was pronounced over, the safe zone disappeared and we just ran. All plan and strategy went from our minds and Scott and I just ran and ran and ran. It was exhausting. We were headed off by a very athletic, energetic zombie, but there were two of us and we were stocked with sockballs to the max. He was a bit intimidated and left to pester the guy behind us who was running a slower than we were. Looking back now we probably should have stopped to help. But we were just too desperate to be safe. Too exhausted to care about what happened to a stranger. It literally didn't even cross our minds. Our survival instinct had kicked in and we just kept on running.

I stayed in bed the entire following day. The mission almost killed me - and Scott was zombified on his way to the dining hall last night. 

Now I am all alone

The Time I Became a Member of a Dying Race

It's only Monday and already I can sense the end is nigh.
I have become a creature who never goes anywhere without at LEAST four pairs of socks in my hands. I eat alone in my room, I talk to no one but trusty Jennie, I lie in bed and constantly refresh the page, watching as my fellows record their deaths and my enemies rejoice. These are dark days to be living in. David and Scott have fallen to the horde. I am all alone.
To date there are 68 Zombies and 46 Humans. Only one zombie that I know of has starved to death. One is simply not enough. We are all going to die.

Let me tell you my tale, so that my family will know how brave I was and the heroics I performed. For my own safety however I will not mention any times or buildings. I do not want my zombie-fied friends to stake out my schedule and hunt me down.

After my last post I admit I had grown a little cocky. I knew that there was a human mission scheduled for 11am, and so I was feeling pretty safe, thinking all the zombies would be at the mission, and for the most past I was right. Corinna and I made it safety to the dining hall and I kinda enjoyed my meal, despite constantly looking over my shoulder and keeping my eye on the one zombie in the corner. He didn't see me. He seemed pretty engrossed in his meal.

When It came time to leave I said goodbye to Corinna, choosing to take a 'sneaky' way back to mine and just as I was maybe 800m from home, four of them came out of nowhere, howling and gibbering and flailing their arms about - chasing me.

I hope that you appreciate that my eyebrows are squiggly and jumping with fear

I ran so hard and so fast that I made myself sick. Sucking in the freezing cold air made my chest burn for the next half hour and the rest of the day and yesterday I have been coughing up phlegm and wheezing when I talk. That is how fast I ran.

Paralysed by fear for the rest of the day I almost didn't go to the mandatory night mission I had signed up for. I knew that most of the humans had participated in the day mission and had fully taken advantage of their numbers, losing only perhaps two to the horde. That left about 20 of us for the night mission, and a pack of about 30 zombies ready for revenge.

I decided eventually that it was time to pluck off the chicken feathers and venture outside. The mission was set to start at the the iceskating rink at the Ramsey centre which was a temporary human safe zone. I was making my way there and got completely freaked out when I was surprised from behind by a fellow human. By this point I had simply been conditioned to react with fear when seeing the yellow bandana, before processing where it was positioned. He was a human though and at first I was grateful for the extra backup until I realised that he only had one sock ball. He was coming to ME for protection. Together we made it to the car park. We spotted 4 zombies guarding the entrance to the football field which we had to get around and so, commando style, we crouched and ran from one car to another.  When we were out of sight we booked it to the stairs where we saw another human walking. We caught up with her and just as we climbed the stairs we ran into 4 more zombies. These ones chased us up more stairs and cornered us. Desperately, sock in hand between me the one zombie in particular eyeing me off, I tried a door. It was locked. 

'Don't let her go down the stairs' 

The zombie called and I saw what she meant by another set of stairs to my left, heading back down the way we'd come. I figured that it was just a trap, that we were really meant to be inside the building so I tried another door. It was locked too. Another door. Locked. Another. Also locked. The last door. Open! I ran in and breathed a sigh of relief. I was there! or so I thought. From behind I opened the previously locked doors to save my friends. Then, before we had even caught our breath we looked out of the window. I saw Scott, standing amongst a pack of yellow bandanas and was like 

'NOOOO!!! Scott's been caught!'

And then, shitting my pants, I realised that he was standing with the other humans, in the ice skating rink. Where we were meant to be.

'We've got to be down THERE!' 

I yelled to my friends and then, without looking to see if they were following (coz I'm all heroic and chivalrous like that), I pushed open the door and legged the stairs, two at a time. The humans below saw us around the same time that maybe 10 other zombies were about to swarm us. They left the safe zone, sock balls held high and cleared a path for us. We were safe. 

But the mission hadn't even begun yet.

The Time I Tried to STAY Human

I never expected it to be like this.

You know what I’ve realized over the past 24 hours? There are some things which you take for granted all your life that perhaps you just shouldn’t. Such as being human.

It’s been less than 24 hours since the Human’s vs Zombies game began here on campus and already my life will never be the same. From here on the highways and byways are closed to me. From here on the road less traveled become my friend, whether it be path or mountain or stream. From this day forth until Saturday next week I will tell no one my name, mention nothing of my schedule or breathe a word of my residence to anyone. I must become a creature of shadows and only (maybe) then, will I survive the Zombie apocalypse.

Fig.a. Human

Fig. b. Zombie

The game itself is very simple. It’s basically a big game of tag with an Alpha zombie beginning the game and the rest of us are humans. Humans must wear a fluro bandana on any part of their arm or leg. Zombies wear their bandana on their head and neck. If a zombie tags a human, they become a zombie. If a human throws a sock ball at the zombie they are halted in their tracks and ‘stunned’ from the game for 10 mins. Occasionally the humans are e-mailed missions which they must complete. This gets them out of their rooms. The zombies are also informed of the human mission and do their best to ambush. Doesn’t sound too bad right? Doesn’t sound too mind numbingly terrifying right? WRONG. Already, of 120 humans, 15 people are zombies. I know for a fact that one of them runs 7 miles several times a week at an extremely fast pace. This man is a machine and he is out there with others (and more, many more will fall) …hunting me.

I was walking to class today. It was on a Saturday morning and this weekend has been Halloween weekend. Surely, SURELY there would be no zombies out. Just to be safe I wore my hoodie low. I made sure I only had one ear phone in so that I had an ear free to hear if anyone was sneaking up on me, I took the {this post has been edited to protect my life} and didn’t touch the main pathway until it was absolutely necessary. Until I had no other choice. And just at the moment a CONVOY of 3 cars FULL OF ZOMBIES with their CURSED bandanas GLARING at me from AROUND THEIR HEADS drove by. I must have given myself away by standing frozen like a retarded squirrel in front of headlights. I literally felt the fear fill my body and could do nothing but pray and mentally count how many sock balls I had packed in case they decided to pull over and take me then and there.

I think the only reason they didn’t see my bandana was because they had more important things on their mind. You see, there’s a human mission this morning. I’ll bet my brains that they were heading out early to set a trap. My particular mission is set for tonight.  I don’t know where or what it is.  I just hope we last the night.

Pray for me friends

The Time I Noticed the Leaves

Just a quick note.

The leaves around here are not like Australian leaves in autumn. Australian leaves in autumn seem to just accept sadly that they're dying. They quietly turn brown, then shrivel up and drop off. It's sad. But pretty uneventful.

Leaves here however seem to fight. They try to make as much of a show as possible before they take their final bow. The entire hills turn orange and yellow and red. You just can't ignore it.

So here's some photos of the place.

The Time I Tried to be a Human Being

So. Over the Fall break I took a road trip with my good friends Katy and Joseph down to Alabama where we enjoyed the hot weather and sunshine. I loved getting to meet Katy's friends and family. Her Mum especially is incredible. She literally makes an art form out of being a mum. Anyway. So. While we were there we went Halloween shopping, pedicuring, and out in their boat fishing. Mary wanted to go noodling (which is basically sticking your hand into a hole in a murky river and pulling out catfish -and hopefully no snapping turtles...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LksuKTD8y0o) and I saw several alligators. It was all very exciting.

After I returned home I was really inspired to clean my room and just generally live as a human being again. It's amazing what a return to a proper household with a sense of order and cleanliness can do to make one want to live a lot less like an animal. 

So, newly inspired, I went on my cleaning spree. 

I pulled the dead cat - I'm sorry, the hair- out of the shower sink which was so revolting I almost chundered everywhere.  Then I cleaned out my desk and made my bed. I was feeling so proud. Almost...adult. 

Then I reached the kitchen. I had to throw out a whole heap of old food which had been left behind over the week when everyone was away but I was halted in my tracks when I came to the milk. It's still nowhere NEAR it's due date. But there was only a tiny bit left in there and I am ALWAYS thingy when it comes to milk.

At least, that's how I imagine the conversation would have gone if Jennie had actually been around at the time.

The moral here?

Milk just freaks me out.

It doesn't matter what the date is, when I bought it, if I saw it actually coming out of the cow itself. I will still, ALWAYS, question the freshness. It probably comes from that one time as a child I poured off milk into the last bowl of my favourite cereal...

I'm going to continue my quest to be an actual human being now by doing my own washing and studying for my test tomorrow, something I probably should have been doing instead of drawing terrible cartoons about a mildly traumatising aspect of my life.

The Time We Broke the Light

So, Corinna and I were at my house studying one night for one of Mr Ankle's tests. We both share a pretty passionate hatred for the man and (largely thanks to Corinna's influence) we've decided to beat him by bettering all the American students of his class who he blatantly thinks have superior intellect and skills simply because they were born here.

So we were studying hard, keeping ourselves entertained by asking each other questions in the other's accent, in a baby voice, in a Russian accent or whatever other modifications we could think of. We ran though 3 chapters of the text book TWICE which we were both extremely proud of, and then, as we were giving each other celebratory high fives Corinna spotted a smiling volleyball which was practically begging to be played with. So impulsively we decided to sharpen our indoor volleyball skills. As you do.

It was so much fun. We were hitting and spiking. We tried to pass it between ourselves without dropping  it and we got up to like, a hundred or something...or like, four? But who's counting anyway? We made professional crowd noises too. Like oohing every time we narrowly missed the t.v screen, or squealing theatrically when the ball hit the roof and one of us made a spectacular save.

So, eventually I was like. 

'Okay Corinna. We at least have to try to get to five one hundred without dropping it okay?'

It was a challenge she readily accepted.  Maybe a little too enthusiastically. Actually, I can't really remember who actually hit the light. All I remember was the crash and the horror of seeing it with a big crack down the side lying on the floor. And freaking out big time that our RA Emily was about to walk in and would make us pay for it.

So, thinking fast, I ran into my room and grabbed some tape to perform an emergency medical procedure, restoring it to (almost) it's former glory. All that was left was to re-attach it to the roof. That's where we hit our true obstacle.

There was no hooks, indents, lips, rims or anything else that we could see which would let us reattach it. Extremely puzzled we investigated all the other lights in the house to see if they could give us any clues. Nothing. They were all different.

'It's their fault' Corinna said when we had given up and slumped down in despair. 'They shouldn't have put such a weak light where they knew students were living, possibly even playing volleyball'  She's very wise like that.

We were getting desperate. We'd tried everything! We'd constructed a castle of chairs and benches to reach the damn thing, I'd put out my neck by straining it against the ceiling as I peered ridiculously into the other lights of the house for answers, I'd seared my eyeballs and fingertips as I'd prodded around clumsily. Finally, in a moment of sheer frustration I grabbed the light and just jammed it onto the ceiling. And amazingly, defying all logic and mechanic design. It stuck. And has not moved since. From this point on, if it falls, it is absolutely not my fault. I just hope that the tape we put on it doesn't catch on fire...

Our solution

The volleyball still thinks it's hilarious.

                               

Leaving

Here's a slightly more serious post. I guess it was about time. No matter how much I wish it was, my life is not always fun, games and funny stories. 


So, in a recent conversation I was asked the question 'Does it cross your mind that you're going to be on the other side of the earth in 2 months?'


I sometimes wonder how many people who have not travelled to another country for an extended period of time can really understand what it's like. I remember my first major life adventure was to live with a family for 3 months in Holland when I was 15. What really struck me when I first arrived was that it literally was like being born again. We don't realise just how much our identity, our sense of right and wrong is influence and dictated by those things and people around us. Those who serve as our safety net or even our oppressors. They all define us, help us to define where, in our personalities, our study, our lifestyles, we push for more and where we limit ourselves. When we leave these people and our familiar surroundings all this seems to get a little lost in the wind for a while. At least, that's how it was for me.


I found myself this year landed in the US with no self expectations, no reputation to uphold, no mentors to impress or young impressionable ones to be a role model for. There was nothing but me and my desire to have a good time. To explore and grow, and to encounter this country and its people with an open mind. During this journey I have been confronted with a couple of really pressing questions which I'll share here. I wonder if what you can come up with answers where I haven't:

      - What happens when all the old rules 

don't apply anymore. 

And then you meet someone who personifies anarchy

. . .and invites you to join them?

       - How many times can you keep making 

new friends when you know you're going to leave them eventually, 

and maybe, the number of times you'll see them again can be counted on one hand? 

How deep can these relationships be? 

And where does that energy that you put into them go?

  - Ultimately, is travel a selfish act? 

I am here to learn, to grow, to adventure. But then what? 

When I get home this just becomes a fascinating story. What about the people here? 

This is their home. Everything which occurs here matters more because it's permanent and is going to affect the course of their lives. 

So what does this mean for me? Does it make this more real? 

Does home and my life there and my relationships there matter more or less while I'm over here. And when I return home, what happens then?

It's a really weird position to be in. 


I guess the way I'm looking at it is that I'm going to make the most of a good thing while I can. I'm going to get all the enjoyment I can out of it while it lasts and make all the memories and learn all the lessons I can. I guess that's why I travel so much. I believe that our life is given meaning by these things and when an opportunity comes to receive them in great depth then we should seize it with both hands. 



In regards to the relationships I've made here, I guess the picture below has become my view on it. This was made by my very good and talented friend Jilly. I don't know if she knows how much this has help me to define my time and my actions here. 

My Nemesis: The Cat Tran

One of my most vivid memories of orientation week here at WCU, amidst the flurry of new colours and noises and people, was when an American girl who was helping out us internationals (her name's Lydia and she's lovely by the way) was giving us a tour and midway through pointed at a purple mini bus passing by and made a comment.

'Oh. That's the Cat Tran, or as we sometimes call it. The FAT Tran'

So, instantly, a highly scientific and detailed flow chart formed in my mind.

Cat Tran

= No walk

No walk

= Fat

Fat 

=Insulation

(From here we can go one of two ways)

Insulation in cold weather

= Good!

Insulation when returning to Australian Summer

= Bad

So I reached the conclusion:

Bad

= Cat Tran

Now, I live down in the village which is a little out of the way of the main buildings on campus.  I usually have to walk about a kilometre or so to get from my bed to breakfast/class/wherever and up until now I'd always kind of rejoiced in it. Like:

Yay! A guarenteed 2km walk every day. Imma gunna be fit like a BOSS when I get back'

I'd made a solemn vow to never, not even in the most extreme weather conditions, to EVER catch the Cat Tran (kinda like my vow to never eat at the Camden Maccas, but even MORE intense than that)

So, as the colder weather has crept in, the temptation has grown, especially when the timing is just so perfect and I leave my house to find the Cat Tran already there, just waiting, begging. Kinda like the Devil.

I'd resisted however, and would picture in my head to comfort myself as I walked how FAT all those FATTIES on the FAT Tran must be. Because I'm mature like that. 

In fact, I even conjure up humorous images to myself as I walk.

Notice how sad they all look? It's because they're FAT. Yeah. Suck it.

So.

This where the story takes a darker turn.

I had been filming a news story the previous night and had one one the t.v studio cameras with me. My dear friend Katy had so kindly dropped me home with this big, heavy thing the previous night but it had to be back by 9.30am the following morning.

In fact, I'm not even going to try and sugar coat this. It was this morning. Yeah. This happened. TODAY. 

So, I set my alarm for 8.30, going to leave the house and 9. It took me about 5 mins longer than it should have to navigate the stairs because I'd forgotten what a heavy, clunky mofo that damn thing actually is. It probably weighs about 9-10 kilos and only has a shoulder strap to carry it with. So, I'm not even out of my door yet, and I'm exhausted and already needing to see a chiropractor to get my spine realigned. I opened my front door while giving myself a little pep talk, saying things like:

'C'mon Elyse, This will be like, all the gym work you need to do for the next 3 days'

and

'Surely if I work out some sort of rotational system I will make it with both my shoulder blades still in place...'

And just as I've psyched myself up sufficiently and turned the epic trailer music up in my headphones...

I think I might be too ashamed to continue this narrative.

No. wait. it gets worse.

On the Cat Tran it was warm, and comfortable, and quick. I got where I needed to be 20 mins early and I wasn't sweaty and out of breath or particularly smelly (not always a certainty with me these days...).

And the people on it were all skinny.

So now. 

Now I don't quite know what to say.

I am left in such a state of confusion. My world and everything I knew in it is now as far from its original state as as slice of McDonalds cheese is from milk. I'm not really quite sure what to say or do anymore. 

I am literally just sitting silently in my room breathing heavily and blinking occasionally.

The Cat Tran has defeated me.

The Time(s) I Sleep Talked

Sleep talking is such a curious thing. I've always viewed it as very vulnerable action.  You have absolutely no control over what or how something is said. I feel as though as I've gotten older, my sleep talking has gotten worse. Maybe it's just being here at college. I never even thought I really sleep talked until Jennie brought it to my attention a few weeks ago, I mean, I know I have in the past, such as infamously at camp 'I really want a tattoo...of a frog...on my back' and I know from Sara's malicious childhood 'experiments' that if I'm asked a question I'll probably reply truthfully to almost anything. But recently, this sleep talking business has gotten a bit out of hand.

Wow. Don't you just LOVE it? And I have no idea or recollection of what ANY of this means.  Especially that last one. What was going on in my brain? Apparently I said something after it which made it sound less suss so its nice to know that I probably wasn't having a raunchy dream about Jennie...that could make things in the house awkwardddddd. But like, pastafication? That was the only one she could remember but apparently that night I was just spurting out invented words of pure gold. Weird. 

The Day I Got Locked out. Aka When Katy and Joseph Saved my Life

So. To tell this story properly I will need to again dazzle you with my incredible drawing skills and show you an eagle eye view of my dorm area. My 'House'

So, it all began one fateful saturday after I had just finished class (I know. Class on Saturday morning, from 9-12. What sadist thought that up!?) anyway. So I was coming back from class and Jennie was just on her computer in our little shared room. And I came in, all cold and freezing from the ridiculous cold front which had just come (and is still incidentally, hanging about like a piece of hair that sometimes gets caught and hangs off that dangly bit in the back of your throat and you just can't get it off, no matter how hard you try).  ANYWAY. So I, in my infinite wisdom, decided to get changed BACK into my pyjamas and do some work on my computer (and by work I clearly mean scroll up and down facebook and search youtube etc. In this case it was the Cyanide and Happiness website). I hit a speed bump however when I realised that the mess of my room had finally won out and there was no room anywhere for me to sit and comfortably enjoy wasting time. So I moved out into the lounge room onto one of the couches and sat there happily for solid 2 hours or so, vaguely registering someone leave the house.

My problems began when I realised it was about time to take a shower and I went back over to my room and found the door locked. So this isn't usually an issue because Jennie is very security conscious and locks and deadbolts the door every night before we go to sleep. So I just knocked on the door and called out in a very high pitched, baby voice....

Although, it's probably very important to mention that I actually looked like this.

Aside from the obvious, I had three very distinct problems:

1) Everything I owned aside from my laptop. my phone, my wallet and keys, shoes... were locked a frustrating two metres away in another room.

2) Jennie had left to go and get a tattoo. Now, to the best of my knowledge, tattoos aren't something you decide on over half and hour or so and then get done in a quickie 20 mins.

3) I had promised to go and help the student television crew broadcast the home football game, and I needed to be there in an hour.

So, I did what anyone of my generation would do. Sent out a plea for help on facebook with my laptop, the only tool I had left at my disposal. I couldn't even leave the building and go to the commons to ask for help, because say, just say that there was no one at the commons (and it was highly unlikely that anyone would be there...) then once I left my building I would be completely and utterly stranded in the freezing cold. 

That is when Katy and Joseph came to my rescue.

The drove over, picked me up, drove me into Sylva, helped me scour tattoo shops for Jennie. When that failed they bought me 'feel better' beverages, took me back to their home, dressed me, fed me and then dropped me off at the game where I needed to be. I am eternally in their debt. Jennie didn't get home till 9 that night.

Working at the game was great. We broadcasted it to the local television channel as well as onto the big screen on the field. I was right up in the stadium, higher than even the seating reaches and it got so, so, so desperately cold. But, y'know, at least I had a jacket and SHOES.

Me. Cold. But Alive.

The Alternative

And that is the story of how Katy and Joseph saved my life.

N.B I should note that the jacket Katy gave me is a million times warmer than ANYTHING I have of my own to wear. This coming winter...I am in serious trouble