University of Louisville - Thoroughbred Yearbook (Louisville, KY)

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you.” That student was a friend of mine. By now everybody had gone pale, the blood drained from their faces. We gradually passed by the men at the tables. The student with the el- bows walked by saying, ‘Well, I’m finished here, baby. See ya around. Say, if ya survive this thing, meet me upstairs and we'll eat together. I'll be waiting for you.’’ He walked into the other half of the room. Then a strange thing began to hap- pen. We were encased in clothing, like rather loosely tied strait jackets. Our clothes were soggy. Osmosis from the skin outwards perhaps. Now, the Lincoln Room is very big—you’ve heard of cases such as this; steam rose from our bodies. Clouds formed above us. It began to rain indoors. There was even miniature lightning. We were thoroughly wet and miser- able. The movable wall was slid across the room, evidently to control the “weather,” the lightning and rain stopped suddenly, leaving only a 24 fog. Perhaps the room had to be made airtight, for there was hissing. Per- haps all the thunder and lightning had been shifted to the other half, for there was a rumbling from the other side. At any rate, we were busy with the lines and didn’t seem to notice. Finally we were through the last line. The last machine card was push- ed into the last brown envelope. The movable wall was slid back. The other half of the room was empty. They had finished registration. The rest of the process was fast and simple. We filled out various colored forms, giving the requested data about religion, education, and the long numbers necessary to today’s life. Then the last line. Student chec- kers. A sudden flash of sunlight forced its way into the room and disap- peared quickly. | looked up. By bend- ing slightly, | barely saw a small patch of sky. Gray with clouds. ‘Looks like showers are promising,” | said to my- self. There was nothing wrong with my registration. | literally dragged myself up the stairs and out into the open. | lay down on the bench in front of the UC, and looked up at the sky. It was all over. The clouds stirred above me. It began to rain lightly. | didn’t move. The drops were cool and cleansing. The swea t washed from my face. | felt the color come back to my face. Somewhere there was a very faint peel of thunder. But still | did not move. “Good God! What's wrong with that guy on the bench?” “Tired out from. registration, | guess.” “Man, looks like he’s dead!’’ —John Junot

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