It was late at night last week, and I was sitting in my friend's Lawn room, talking aimlessly about the world and enjoying the beauty of a warm room in the middle of a cold Charlottesville night. Moments like this are particularly satisfying here because I'm always mindful not just of my own comfort but of the comfort of everyone who has walked and sat and talked before me. It's easy to be happy at the University because, for all the ferment and chaos of our world, there are underlying patterns that stay the same decade after decade.
And then his radiator exploded all over me.
Specifically, I was sitting in a chair right next to the radiator, and in order to emphasize a point, I leaned forward. One second later, the valve blew off the radiator and shot through the space my body had just occupied.
This was promptly followed by an incredibly powerful jet of near-boiling water which continued to blast for forty-five minutes.
The following hours were just ridiculous. My friend and I, joined by some passers-by and neighbors, ripped every object out of his room to save what we could from the ruinous, and oddly mineral-rich, water.
I narrowly escaped having a hole drilled through my torso, so I guess I can't complain too much. My friend has been holding up very well, considering that he lost a good number of possessions and will be homeless for some days to come. In fact, with the exception of some personally important notebooks, his laptop (which was horrible and old), and some minimal burns on my part, we really sailed through the whole ordeal.
But it was all the more unfortunate because the episode occurred in a place that seems as if it will never deviate from its common rhythms. You presume that you can count on some things and consequentially forget that they can go away.
So I'm trying to stop taking things for granted anymore. This is both good and bad; it's harder to float free in comfort and disengagement, but easier to appreciate good things. For example, I take it for granted that we have a Bodo's on the Corner, even though generations of University students wept and prayed every night for such a joyous thing to come to pass. So now, the next time I bite into yet another delicious slab of bagel covered in perfect cream cheese, I'll shed a tear for the tens of thousands who would have killed for the chance.
The world seems to be telling me that this new attitude is right, and not only by detonating a radiator next to me. For example, I was recently in a large lecture where the professor viciously mocked several individual students because they were poor. I can no longer take it for granted that my teachers don't hate me.
I take it for granted (and I think a lot of others do, too) that our world is held together by a glittering sea of instant electronic communication. A few friends of mine, motivated by ludicrous primitivist ideas, have begun leaving their cell phones at home and checking their email accounts only once each day. This frightens me so that I can't sleep.
This attitude, however, is a little dangerous when carried too far. After the severe trauma of the Lawn blowing up underneath me like some diseased fantasy from "Apocalypse Now," I've stopped taking for granted that any building I occupy is at all safe. My house is heavily infested with a population of squirrels that run rampant through the ceilings. I once took for granted that these squirrels would not set upon and eat me. Now, I always have a heavy object with me when I move from room to room.
Of course, this hasn't been a total revelation -- I still assume that the bus will never ever pick me up on my way to class. I still take for granted that "Lost" is the best show on television (I thank God it's coming back so we can all return to its warm embrace).
And most of all, my friends, I take it for granted that, in this incredible place, the world will never stop disappointing, amazing, tantalizing, and stupefying me. Welcome to spring, and watch out for geysers on the Lawn.
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