2008 Woodie Awards
Fire Alarm Wakes Morg at 4 AM Again
Zev Lerner
Issue date: 11/5/07 Section: Opinion
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It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled through the streets, and sheets of rain slammed against the window panes. It was All Hallows Eve. Somewhere, the clock tower struck midnight, and the bell rung, again and again and again. And yet, something was wrong. The pitch wasn't quite right for a clock tower bell. It was more like a… fire alarm, I realized, as I awoke with a start. My first suspicion was that my roommate was snoring again. This seemed unlikely, as, firstly, his normal orchestral performance is generally closer to the foghorn family, and secondly, he was wide awake. My next suspicion was that my fellow residents of Morgenstern 6 were singing again, as they are wont to do at wee hours of the night. However, this sound seemed especially piercing, even for them. My roommate and I realized that this was, indeed, a real fire alarm. We raced out of our room and down the steps, pausing only briefly to change into sweatpants and sweatshirts, find our cell phones and glasses, brew a quick cup of coffee and check on Australian cricket scores.
As we thundered down the steps, I worried for the safety of poor Richard Joel. Not Richard Joel, the person. He was most likely sleeping safely in his bed, dreaming of demonstrating the beauty and possibility of Torah U'Maddah by showing the astoundingly complex, yet perfectly clear, connection between Fermat's Last Theorem and the Rambam's Moreh Nevuchim that he had thought up on the elevator ride to 12th floor Belfer. I was referring, of course, to Richard Joel, my cat. As to why I would name my cat Richard Joel, well, imagine if they tried to enforce the "no pets" rule and kick my poor cat out of the dorms. The headline in the Commentator would read; RICHARD JOEL KICKED OUT OF YU.
As I feared for my freckled feline's fate, I reached the Morgenstern Lounge and was nearly smacked in the face by the alliteration at the beginning of this sentence. The guards told us we needed to wait outside in the freezing cold, and were not moved by the argument that, even if there was an actual fire, we would have ample time to see the flames racing towards us from the lobby and step the last five feet out the door. Moving outside, I realized that the situation bared a strange resemblance to my dream, except that it wasn't raining, it was 4:30 AM rather than midnight, and the tower on top of Zysman Hall resembles a church spire much more than a clock tower. As the rest of the population of Morgenstern Hall began to pour forth from the lobby doors, they all wanted to know one thing; what was that status of the Australian cricket match? My roommate and I assured our peers that Melbourne had, indeed, taken a commanding lead. After that bit of excitement, the crowd began to get restless. How are several hundred YU students, gathered in one place with nothing to else to do, going to pass the time? By pontificating on the deeper meaning of the event, of course. Perhaps this was a wakeup call, both figuratively and literally. Perhaps the clarion call of the fire alarm was our shofar (only a month late). As several spontaneous mussar shiurim and tefillah groups broke out, my roommate nudged me awake and brought me back to reality. In actuality, we are all wondering who was to blame. Had someone been making late night popcorn? Was there a nefarious student using candles to prepare for pagan rituals? Or was it simply a malfunction in the incompetent installation of the new fire alarms, as it had been when we were awoken at four in the morning three weeks prior.
As we thundered down the steps, I worried for the safety of poor Richard Joel. Not Richard Joel, the person. He was most likely sleeping safely in his bed, dreaming of demonstrating the beauty and possibility of Torah U'Maddah by showing the astoundingly complex, yet perfectly clear, connection between Fermat's Last Theorem and the Rambam's Moreh Nevuchim that he had thought up on the elevator ride to 12th floor Belfer. I was referring, of course, to Richard Joel, my cat. As to why I would name my cat Richard Joel, well, imagine if they tried to enforce the "no pets" rule and kick my poor cat out of the dorms. The headline in the Commentator would read; RICHARD JOEL KICKED OUT OF YU.
As I feared for my freckled feline's fate, I reached the Morgenstern Lounge and was nearly smacked in the face by the alliteration at the beginning of this sentence. The guards told us we needed to wait outside in the freezing cold, and were not moved by the argument that, even if there was an actual fire, we would have ample time to see the flames racing towards us from the lobby and step the last five feet out the door. Moving outside, I realized that the situation bared a strange resemblance to my dream, except that it wasn't raining, it was 4:30 AM rather than midnight, and the tower on top of Zysman Hall resembles a church spire much more than a clock tower. As the rest of the population of Morgenstern Hall began to pour forth from the lobby doors, they all wanted to know one thing; what was that status of the Australian cricket match? My roommate and I assured our peers that Melbourne had, indeed, taken a commanding lead. After that bit of excitement, the crowd began to get restless. How are several hundred YU students, gathered in one place with nothing to else to do, going to pass the time? By pontificating on the deeper meaning of the event, of course. Perhaps this was a wakeup call, both figuratively and literally. Perhaps the clarion call of the fire alarm was our shofar (only a month late). As several spontaneous mussar shiurim and tefillah groups broke out, my roommate nudged me awake and brought me back to reality. In actuality, we are all wondering who was to blame. Had someone been making late night popcorn? Was there a nefarious student using candles to prepare for pagan rituals? Or was it simply a malfunction in the incompetent installation of the new fire alarms, as it had been when we were awoken at four in the morning three weeks prior.