While it was one of those Saturday “Meet and Greet” programs when I first saw Bowman Hall, it wouldn’t be until summer orientation that I had the privilege to sleep in the decades-old building. Scant memories of orientation remain, though I still remember it was a two day “festival of fun” held in late July. We were to report to campus by mid-afternoon Thursday and be ready to spend the next day walking the campus. Friday morning was spent within the core program areas (every freshman took an English course, every freshman took a history course) and the afternoon was regulated to meeting with the program area we wanted to major in. I naturally spent the afternoon in the Communication Building.
Those of us being “orientated” were housed in Bowman Hall, chosen for the three-day event because it was in the heart of campus, mere minutes away from most of the activities. It operated those days much like it would during the school year, which means that I had a roommate. Yes, while I’ve said Mort was my first roommate at college, the first person I shared a room with was Cody Marrow.
Why is it that every Cody I’ve ever met in my life – and thankfully, it’s only been two or three – insists on self-applying the nickname, “Code Man?” It isn’t funny. This “Code Man” was big – football player big. But he didn’t play ball and he didn’t talk much. We met Thursday afternoon and hit it off the best we could, though I think neither of us were the type of person we would have associated with in different circumstances. After dinner I took a brief stroll around campus and returned to discover “Code Man” had brought a television, the only accessorily relief from the vacant room.
We met up for breakfast and then went our separate ways. It was an eventful day, with me registering for my first classes and meeting with the coordinator of the Communication Department; outside the big event was the university-sponsored “picnic party” in the mall area next to the student center. That sort of thing didn’t appeal to me so I stayed away. That night tuned out to be the big dance in the ballroom, which neither me or Code Man expressed any interest in attending. The problem with that was the Bowman Hall residence advisors (RA’s), in an effort to promote unification and a new chapter opening in our lives (their words), were going from room to room to force us from the building and drag us to the party (if need be; their words). Code Man had only caught wind of this mandatory requirement during dinner so we had to act fast when we got back to our room.
There had been a light late-afternoon shower that by dinner time had progressed to a fine mist. Thinking the rain would soon let up, the two of us slipped out the backdoor of the dormitory into the night with only the haziest of plans. Since most everyone would be convening at the Student Center next door our strategy was to head off in the opposite direction, splashing and slogging through puddles and the wet underbrush washed into the sidewalks and streets. My quick tour of the campus the night before came in handy as we made our way from structure to structure, keeping close to the sides of the buildings and never straying into the halos illuminating from streetlights above. Neither of us said anything; silently I wondered if we’d get caught. Surely the University Police were out on patrol tonight what with all the guests in Bowman Hall. Maybe they were hiding in the shadows of the stoic frieze outside the Music Building or leaning lazily along the northern edge of the library at the book drop. But there was no one.
Our little jaunt lasted as long as we thought it should – over a half hour – and we covered plenty of ground on foot that evening. The mist turned to a light sprinkle through which we could make out shapeless forms darting quickly in the shimmering twilight. Cody and I were nearing the central part of campus now. This was our victory stretch, a clear shot from one end of the campus to its center, down one side of the quadrangle, and then a few clever twists and turns and we would be back in Bowman Hall.
What was that? Cody stopped short and spun around. We were dead still. Somebody – or something – was making a lot of noise on the other side of the quadrangle. What little light there was swirled in the thickening mist. It was too dark to see anything and neither of us thought to bring a flashlight. Was it following us? In my innocence I asked if it was a dog. I got the answer I deserved. Hesitantly the two of us moved on, down a steep staircase and then through a canopy of limp, leafy branches from a nearby tree. It wouldn’t be long now. Finally the close shadows of buildings and trees fell away and we reached the lane that divided the quad. A brisk walk across the quadrangle and we could see our home away from home, Bowman Hall. We stood next to an impossibly large box-like building, silent and secure. We had reached the Old Administration Building.
And standing at the side of the building, in the shadows of the old, unused outdoor staircase, was a man. He wore dark green raincoat and floppy-brimmed rain hat that kept his face dry in no way at all. The shape turned to face us and then lurched forward.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Orientation
(Jose Padilla)
Jose Padilla
From the album Souvenir
1998
