In an attempt to make this re-blog-ification less lame, I am going to post a story from my college days... The night of the sign...
I remember that night quite well...
It all started with one of my pledge brothers wanting to finally destroy the Delt sign. But first let me give you a little back story...
I went to a little school in the middle of the Midwest called Wabash College. Wabash is fortunate enough to still maintain a very strong Greek system. The fraternities are for the most part situated pretty close to each other, which provides for a lot of entertainment. Various pranks have been committed for as long as anyone can remember. These have included one house putting over 100 "Property for sale" signs in the front yard of another house, putting a couple vials of fruit flies in a storage closet, and the like. Some of these pranks have bordered on being 'not in good fun.' But as all parties partook in these pranks, no one was particularly offended and everything was fine.
Now the Delt sign... The Delta Tau Delta house was directly across the street from my house. At the corner of the front lawn closest to the road they had a wooden sign with their house letters on it. This sign was made out of railroad ties, and was very sturdy. From time to time people would play pranks on the sign. From pouring paint on it, egging it, to the slightly more serious - setting it on fire.
Seriously, the sign that had been set on fire more than Harvey Grant in NBA Jam seemed to be impervious. I suggested that he head over to the local hardware store and purchase some stump rot. I had seen the Trainer use that to destroy some vicious locust stumps at the homestead the summer before.
So he goes to the store purchases the stump rot and gathers the up a pretty large and powerful drill with a boring bit, and 3 or 4 extension cords. We did not want to be caught with a short cord. Now the way that the stump rot works is that you have to drill a hole in the wood you want to rot and pack the "rot" in there. So we had to orchestrate a late night mission to run across the street and drill the holes.
We hooked up the drill and the extensions cords and dawned face masks and waited for the dark of night and a pause in the traffic. I remember being the watchman, stuck up in the top of the secondary stairwell near the road, looking for cars to come as he ran across the street with the drill and the rot.
Now it is a testament to the quality of the structure, but he had trouble getting the drill to go through some of the railroad timbers that had been used to make the sign, so I ran across the street to assist.
I got over behind the sign and crouched in the shadows. Fortunately there were some bushes behind it and we were able to hide in the bushes. As we got ready to attempt drilling the hole again, we realized the flaw in our current situation. We had a long bright orange extension cord strung across the street and the watchman, me, had been called to the front lines to participate in the trench warfare. We were behind enemy lines, and blind. It was quite an unlucky moment, because as soon as we realized our situation it seems that one of the local factories must have changed shifts because a line of traffic began rushing down the road.
Many cars and trucks came through and we decided to use the cover of the sound of the cars to mask the sound of the drill. We started to drill, and it was a two man job. One person's job was to hold the drill and the other one's job was to stabilize and watch our six. Seriously, the sign was so sound that we first had to drill a small 'starter' hole before the boring bit would even work. Luckily, we came prepared with an assortment of drill bits, and found one small enough to go in, but sturdy enough to not break immediately.
We had begun to make some progress when the unthinkable occurred. The drill had stopped. One of the cars had struck the cord just in the exact manner required to unplug the extension cord. We then patiently waited, ok - we were sweating bullets. A small break in the traffic occurred. My accomplice ran into the street and re-plugged the cord and dashed back across. Fortunately, the only attention he garnered was a yell from a pickup truck of, "Crazy college kids!"
The mission was to resume.
We struggled and drilled. We drilled 1 hole in each of the timbers. This took longer than we anticipated and he had become a fan of the 'operating under cover of sound' strategy. After some struggle, and having to replace the drill bit twice, the holes were complete.
The next step was packing the rot. We put on rubber gloves, and began packing the holes with the stump rot. The smell was horrible. Would our cover be blown? Would someone smell the evidence? This was when my pledge brother showed a stroke of genius. Out of his cargo pants pocket he pulled a small brown bottle with no label. I certainly doubted the sanity of drinking while on a mission, but this was no adult beverage. This was fox urine.
We generously poured the 'contents' of the flask around the base of the sign and soon the rot scent had been successfully masked.
After completing the entire process, we snuck back across the road and waited. Stump rot is a slow working agent. Once it gets applied it takes time for the chemical to begin working.
For several days, nothing happened, at all. People began to get impatient. Many people doubted that the mission had even occurred. Several began claiming this to be a drunken hyperbole, a story of myth. Not to be considered anything of consequence.
Even weeks began to pass with no visible signs of damage. The smell had gone away, privately I began to wonder if someone had seen the mission and brought out a hose and washed away the offending chemical. I feared retaliation. As I walked to classes I saw snipers in the shadows. Those who would see me hit with a water balloon filled with grape jelly or syrup. The paranoia got to me, and I started taking alternate routes to keep them on their toes.
After a month went by, we thought our mission to be a loss. The nervousness subsided, and in my mind this had become on of several fruitless plots to cause the demise of this monument of wood. But, then the glorious sagging began.
After so much disappointment, I thought it to be a trick of my eyes. I couldn’t imagine that it was actually working. Not to mention that it started out so slowly. A little sag here, and then a day or two would pass with to further perceptible change. Slowly however, it became quite noticeable. Soon, Alumni who were visiting the campus began to ask what was happening to the sign.
Then one day it was gone. The sign was completely gone and a patch of dirt was all that was left. Some people try to use logic and say that it was looking bad and someone had orchestrated the removal of the remains as to prevent further scoffing. That a backhoe had come and dug it up and hauled the remnants away.
I prefer to believe that the sign knew it was finished. The sign had been a participant in so many pranks, that I would say it had gained a sense of pride in standing firm against the paint and the fire. And once it knew that it had been beaten, it bowed before its betters. Leaning slowly as a being of wood could only do, very Ent-like. And once it had paid its homage of respect it road off into the sunset to spend all eternity with the other college prank symbols such as the Sacred Cod from Harvard, the Sombreros from Wabash College, and awaits patiently for the day when it will be joined by the Monon Bell.
