The fire alarm went off on campus for the fourth time. Eliza Ritchie Hall, at 2:50 am, we had to evacuate to the street even though most of us were wearing pjamas or boxer shorts or bathrobes, even though it was pouring rain.
Surprisingly, there were many people who seemed unaffected by the alarm. The hard-core partiers, (those people who always seem to be drinking, no matter what time or where) had just returned to their rooms from their excursion. The gym rats were already up, dressed, and waiting for Dalplex to open. A few of the comp sci students had insomnia and were awake anyway, playing video games. But most of us, like me, were trying to sleep, because we have classes this morning (like my 8:30 Physics lab).
The firetruck arrived, and three very sleepy looking firemen walked in, walked out, and then again, so we knew it wasn't a drill. Ten-fifteen minutes later we were allowed back in, without any apparent fire damage to the building. There was some speculation as to the cause of the fire alarm. It could have been two people having sex in the shower (because the humidity sets the alarm off) or it could be that someone pulled the alarm accidently. However, in the small group of evacuees outside, no couple seemed terribly embarrased or naked. The electricity was not reset, so it probably wasn't someone pulling the alarm.
Once returned to bed, I fell right back to sleep and dreamt of another high school ceremony where Laird ate some steel Jell-O and got very sick. I also dreamt that I went on a family trip to a monkey farm, and while we were there the monkeys learned to talk and revolted against the humans.
I know the fire alarm wasn't a dream, though, because this morning my slippers are soggy and covered in leaves and grass.