January 18, 2003 - 11:08 a.m.
DATELINE: East Lansing, 6 a.m. today.
Journalism student Ed Ronco was halfway through a dream about producing World News Tonight when suddenly, Peter Jennings morphed into a gangsta rapper with gold teeth and chains.
It wasn't long after the dream went strange that Ronco woke up.
"I'm GOING GOING BACK BACK TO CALI CALI," came pounding through his wall.
The neighbor's stereo was blasting, and the wall was pounding its familiar pound.
A strong sense of rage filled Ronco as he lurched out of bed and made an uncoordinated attempt to unlock and open his door before he finally got a hold of the handle and flung it open.
He was not alone, as other residents of his wing were also doing the same thing. He knocked. He pounded. He even called the room's phone but it was to no avail. No one was home.
Rod, the floor RA woke up.
"Is that his f***ing idea of a f***ing alarm clock?" he said. Rod was not f***ing happy either.
"I think so," Ronco said, scribbling on a piece of paper.
"It's 6:06 a.m. and my walls are pounding. Apparently I'm going going back back to cali cali," he wrote, "and I'm not not really really happy happy. You MUST make sure your music is off before you leave."
He walked back into the hall to slip the note under the door, just in time to see Rod messing with the floor's circuit-breaker.
"What's the room number," Rod said.
"274."
"You sure?" he responded, fumbling through the switches.
It was one sweet-sounding click of a circuit switch that finally brought them peace that night. The click was the most joyous noise Ronco had ever heard, on the same list with a baby's first cry, his mother's voice and the laughter of friends. Such a sound had never before brought him such pleasure, and never before had he had such respect for his RA.
It was going to be a good night after all.
 |
 |
