The Day I Dropped a Water Balloon from the Fourth Story of Cunningham when I should have been Drawing Zebras in Econ Class

Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying that Microeconomics is boring. I'm just saying ... well, okay. It is boring. Sitting in the back of class drawing zebras and playing Midnight Pool on my cell phone gets really, really old. Eventually the zebras submitted a petition asking me to leave them alone.

Yesterday morning at 11 sharp, I placed my hand on the door of Cunningham 411, bracing myself for another fifty minutes of bone-jarring boredom. Then I stopped short and asked myself: What am I doing? It's not like I was about to learn anything. I have a perfect attendance record. I can afford to have a little Me Time.

I turned around and walked away. A delightful sense of purpose filled me. I left campus and crossed the street to the extensive shopping complex, and there, I purchased a pack of water balloons. Then I returned to Cunningham and filled one.

Before going any further, I ought to explain the layout of the Cunningham building. It was built in the seventies. That should fill in most of the blanks, but here are a few extra details: It's four stories tall, and it wraps around a central courtyard. The primary way to get into the building is by walking into the courtyard and up some sweeping stairs to the second story, all the while walking directly under three levels of balconies.

Every hour, the entrance to the Cunningham courtyard is clogged with student traffic. No one goes up to the fourth story, though, except for people who are foolish enough to take classes like Econ 1B.

In a moment of rebellious passion, I went to the balcony and looked down at the ant-like students passing below. Then I dropped a fully-loaded water balloon into the swirling masses. It dropped for several seconds and then splattered on the ground. A few students looked at it and then kept going about their business.

If there's one thing mischiefs can't stand, it's not getting in trouble when they've been bad. I should have been relieved that I didn't get busted. Instead, I was aggravated. I hastily loaded up another balloon and hefted it away. This one hit a student's backpack squarely and exploded, soaking him in water.

The student looked over his shoulder and shouted: "Cut it out you guys!" And then he went on.

This was too much. I was seriously put out. I loaded five water balloons and tossed them over the edge in quick succession, then peeked over to inspect the damage. I found myself looking into the eyes of my thoroughly soaked Ethics instructor. A sample from one of his lectures can be found here.

My prof smiled slowly. His eyes glinted in recognition. Then he leapt, catlike, up onto the second story balcony and started crawling up the side of the building toward me. Animal fear washed over me and I turned to hide. I found a classroom door to my left and ducked into it hastily, then sat in a desk just as the roll sheet was passed to me.

I inscribed my initials next to my name and sighed. It was going to be another long Econ class.