As the snow melts and the sun begins peaking through the clouds, Wesleyan students still remain aghast about the incident which occurred amongst the cold nights of quarantine. Hardly any students were responsive to interview requests; it seems as though no one has an accurate account of the event, or rather, are unwilling to self-incriminate. Luckily, Wesleying was able to put the pieces together.
The air was crisp and the ground slick as Jake Basebawl from the 3rd floor of Bennet Hall rocketed down Foss Hill on his borrowed sled. Surrounded were groups of students, split into categories. The WestCo kids slid down the hill on their circle sleds, a lit joint in their mouths. The cast of Second Stage’s virtual rendering of The Crucible rolled down the hill, sled-less, laughing and joking loudly as their jackets filled with snow.
Jake Basebawl couldn’t help but feel left out. He had come to Wesleyan to play lacrosse, and after being denied another semester of games, he was dying to find a new niche. Sure, being an athlete during the pandemic did have its perks. He was allowed to walk with his nose out, bro-out in the Clark Hall emergency single, and have a cohort of 30 boys–coach included–without consequence. But gone were the days when Jake could throttle and flex his short shaft for onlookers. The days in which he could throw his bulging biceps across the entryway of a house, preventing a hopeful first-year boy from entering a DKE party. What was left for Jake? Where did he fit in?
While pondering this thought Jake made the mistake of steering towards one of the hiccups in Foss’ otherwise flat, downward layout. He rocketed over a mound of snow and began to fly over Foss, past Olin, over Andrus, towards North College. As he was flying over campus, Jake, though frightened, felt better than he had in days. Finally, he was above everyone else, exactly where he belonged.
His sled flew until he reached the bell tower and with his fist out like superman Jake rung the bell for all of Wesleyan to hear. A wonderful chorus of 2018’s Mo Bamba hit the campus like shockwaves. All throughout the school students left their dorms in a trance to find where the beautiful tune was coming from. At the sight of Jake, big and strong in his phallic tower, the campus bowed and proceeded to mosh on Andrus.
“It was like I had no control.” Said Peter Fahrt ’23, “It was like suddenly I remembered how unimportant I was and all that was left was Jake.” The next day all of the students who participated, though unwillingly, were sent to the Middletown Inn to quarantine. Well, that is, all but the athletes and ECON majors. That night, Jake lay in his bed, eyes lost thoughtfully in his “Saturdays Are For The Boys” flag. Finally, things were getting back to normal, he thought. All was well.