Women's Studies: The Final Saga
Grant: It's in Young hall, right?
Me: Yeah, 3333A Young.
And so the journey begins...
If you wish to be amused by the antics of two very silly people
We reached Young hall and bounded up the stairs like students done with their odious take-home final, carrying our meager feminist offerings to the reputed home of the Kaplan, Lord of Women's and Gender Studies 50. The long hallways glowed in the flourescent lights, and we counted off the numbers on the door with delight. "327, 328, 330 - "
Grant: "Wait, where's 333?"
Me: "Wasn't it 3333A?"
Grant: "Maybe we read it wrong."
Me: "No, I'm sure it was 3333A. Whatever, maybe it was a typo and there's only three 3's."
But regardless of how many 3's there were, we still could not find the hallowed portal, for there was nothing beyond room 330, save for some really ugly stairs. So, we traversed the hallway, and finding an open door, peered in, hoping some wise soul might be there to help us.
Grant: "Hello?"
Old guy: "Hello?" He came around the vast shelves of books and peered at us. His wizard hat glimmered. (Okay, no wizard hat, but he should have had one in my opinion.)
Grant: "Um, we're looking for room 333. Can you tell us where it is?"
Old guy: "Okay, this is an H-shaped building, so go down a flight and there's a hallway that will take you over to the second wing. Then go up the stairs."
Us: "Thank you!"
And so we took leave of the kindly old man, who went back to poring over his musty tomes and maybe turning lead into gold, and went back down the stairs to the second floor. We found the hallway of which he spoke, and after battling our way through several random encounters on the world map, came out on the other side of the H. A sign appeared over our head, pointing back the way we came, that read "Stairs". We did not trust the sign, for the old man had said that stairs might be found on this side of the building, and we were running out of MP so we didn't want to go through more random battles.
We wandered the halls then, lost for many days. We went back up to the third floor again, to see if a hallway might have appeared up there, but to no avail. Once, we ventured into the pits of the first floor, but I cannot speak of the horrors that we found there.
Finally, we found a Dude in a corner office and asked if he might show us the way.
Grant: "Hi, sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you could help us."
Dude: "What do you need help with?"
Grant: "we're looking for 333 Young, and we've been on the third floor already, and there's no 333. It ends at 330. We're supposed to be turning in our final there."
Dude: "Hmm, well are you supposed to be turning it in to some sort of mail room?"
Grant: "The professor said there'd be a box to put it in, so mabye."
Dude:"Well maybe they meant the mail room, but that's probably locked. Here, come on."
With that, he locked up his tiny hut and led us along a small trail winding up the back stairs of young hall. At the third floor once again, he took out a small key and opened one of the locked doors that we had wondered about.
Dude: "what's your professor's name?"
Me; "Kaplan."
Dude: "Kaplan? I don't know a Kaplan in the anthropology department. What's the first name?"
Me: "Um, Caren, Caren Kaplan."
The Dude appeared puzzled and searched his memory for mention of such a one as this. He could not remember anyone of that name in the anthropology department.
Me: "well, it's women's studies, not Anthropology."
Dude: "Oh, that's in Hart Hall. Are you sure you don't have to turn it in there?"
Grant: "I'm sure it said Young on the paper."
Me: "Me too. I swear it said Young when I read it."
In the end, we agreed that perhaps we had been mistaken, and that it was Hart Hall. In any case, it was definitely not Young Hall, that much we had proved at least. So, we left the Dude of Anthropology to make the trek across the vast wilderness of the Quad. It took two days and three camels, and we had to eat bugs so we wouldn't starve to death, but eventually we made it to the entrance to Hart Hall. The vast pink temple rose above us, and we hoped that, at last, we had found the right place.
Sure that we were in the right building this time, we clambered up to the third floor, searching for the elusive 3333A. Instead, we found a labyrinth.
We wandered the halls, never sure exactly where we were in relation to anything. All the corridors looked the same, and though we found room 3333, there was no A, and Lord Kaplan had been quite insistent upon that part. 3333 was locked, and there was no promised Essay Depositing Box in which to place our offerings. It seemed that we were wrong again. Once again, we were to rely upon the kindness of strangers to give us guidance. After defeating the Minotaur and escaping the labyrinth, Grant once again daringly approached someone on the second floor to ask for help. Success! She had not only been in our class and already turned in her essays, she also offered to guide us to the right place! We were all set to go back upstairs again, but to our puzzled surprise, she took us down a corridor on the second floor.
We saw the Box of Essays first, surrounded by people who had also come to make their offerings. Reverently, we tossed our essays in the Box and said a Hell Yes, We're Finally Done. Looking at the number on the door, we saw that it said 2222A.
Me: "Didn't it say 3333A Young hall on the paper? I could have sworn it did."
Grant: "I thought it did."
Know-it-all Girl: "No, look, it says 2222A Hart."
The Know-it-all Girl handed us the Topic Paper upon which the instructions for making offerings had been inscribed. It did indeed say 2222A Hart Hall. How could we have been so foolish? I believe that it was the devil clouding our eyes to the truth. Or maybe it was Grant who led us astray. He is a white male after all.
Me: Yeah, 3333A Young.
And so the journey begins...
If you wish to be amused by the antics of two very silly people
We reached Young hall and bounded up the stairs like students done with their odious take-home final, carrying our meager feminist offerings to the reputed home of the Kaplan, Lord of Women's and Gender Studies 50. The long hallways glowed in the flourescent lights, and we counted off the numbers on the door with delight. "327, 328, 330 - "
Grant: "Wait, where's 333?"
Me: "Wasn't it 3333A?"
Grant: "Maybe we read it wrong."
Me: "No, I'm sure it was 3333A. Whatever, maybe it was a typo and there's only three 3's."
But regardless of how many 3's there were, we still could not find the hallowed portal, for there was nothing beyond room 330, save for some really ugly stairs. So, we traversed the hallway, and finding an open door, peered in, hoping some wise soul might be there to help us.
Grant: "Hello?"
Old guy: "Hello?" He came around the vast shelves of books and peered at us. His wizard hat glimmered. (Okay, no wizard hat, but he should have had one in my opinion.)
Grant: "Um, we're looking for room 333. Can you tell us where it is?"
Old guy: "Okay, this is an H-shaped building, so go down a flight and there's a hallway that will take you over to the second wing. Then go up the stairs."
Us: "Thank you!"
And so we took leave of the kindly old man, who went back to poring over his musty tomes and maybe turning lead into gold, and went back down the stairs to the second floor. We found the hallway of which he spoke, and after battling our way through several random encounters on the world map, came out on the other side of the H. A sign appeared over our head, pointing back the way we came, that read "Stairs". We did not trust the sign, for the old man had said that stairs might be found on this side of the building, and we were running out of MP so we didn't want to go through more random battles.
We wandered the halls then, lost for many days. We went back up to the third floor again, to see if a hallway might have appeared up there, but to no avail. Once, we ventured into the pits of the first floor, but I cannot speak of the horrors that we found there.
Finally, we found a Dude in a corner office and asked if he might show us the way.
Grant: "Hi, sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you could help us."
Dude: "What do you need help with?"
Grant: "we're looking for 333 Young, and we've been on the third floor already, and there's no 333. It ends at 330. We're supposed to be turning in our final there."
Dude: "Hmm, well are you supposed to be turning it in to some sort of mail room?"
Grant: "The professor said there'd be a box to put it in, so mabye."
Dude:"Well maybe they meant the mail room, but that's probably locked. Here, come on."
With that, he locked up his tiny hut and led us along a small trail winding up the back stairs of young hall. At the third floor once again, he took out a small key and opened one of the locked doors that we had wondered about.
Dude: "what's your professor's name?"
Me; "Kaplan."
Dude: "Kaplan? I don't know a Kaplan in the anthropology department. What's the first name?"
Me: "Um, Caren, Caren Kaplan."
The Dude appeared puzzled and searched his memory for mention of such a one as this. He could not remember anyone of that name in the anthropology department.
Me: "well, it's women's studies, not Anthropology."
Dude: "Oh, that's in Hart Hall. Are you sure you don't have to turn it in there?"
Grant: "I'm sure it said Young on the paper."
Me: "Me too. I swear it said Young when I read it."
In the end, we agreed that perhaps we had been mistaken, and that it was Hart Hall. In any case, it was definitely not Young Hall, that much we had proved at least. So, we left the Dude of Anthropology to make the trek across the vast wilderness of the Quad. It took two days and three camels, and we had to eat bugs so we wouldn't starve to death, but eventually we made it to the entrance to Hart Hall. The vast pink temple rose above us, and we hoped that, at last, we had found the right place.
Sure that we were in the right building this time, we clambered up to the third floor, searching for the elusive 3333A. Instead, we found a labyrinth.
We wandered the halls, never sure exactly where we were in relation to anything. All the corridors looked the same, and though we found room 3333, there was no A, and Lord Kaplan had been quite insistent upon that part. 3333 was locked, and there was no promised Essay Depositing Box in which to place our offerings. It seemed that we were wrong again. Once again, we were to rely upon the kindness of strangers to give us guidance. After defeating the Minotaur and escaping the labyrinth, Grant once again daringly approached someone on the second floor to ask for help. Success! She had not only been in our class and already turned in her essays, she also offered to guide us to the right place! We were all set to go back upstairs again, but to our puzzled surprise, she took us down a corridor on the second floor.
We saw the Box of Essays first, surrounded by people who had also come to make their offerings. Reverently, we tossed our essays in the Box and said a Hell Yes, We're Finally Done. Looking at the number on the door, we saw that it said 2222A.
Me: "Didn't it say 3333A Young hall on the paper? I could have sworn it did."
Grant: "I thought it did."
Know-it-all Girl: "No, look, it says 2222A Hart."
The Know-it-all Girl handed us the Topic Paper upon which the instructions for making offerings had been inscribed. It did indeed say 2222A Hart Hall. How could we have been so foolish? I believe that it was the devil clouding our eyes to the truth. Or maybe it was Grant who led us astray. He is a white male after all.