One freshman’s harrowing account of the John Jay flood on Wednesday, March 5. Spoiler alert: She did not have fun.

As a CC freshman, you hear things about John Jay. My first couple of months on campus were chock-full of scripted niceties with just about every person I came in contact with. Inevitably, the dorm question would arise. The reaction to my John Jay response, like clockwork, would be akin to being splashed with uncomfortably cold water. A grimace, or even a stumbled step back. I would respond, in blissful ignorance, in defense of John Jay. Yes, I was one of those people. “I actually really like it in John Jay!” “Well, I’ve never seen anything too bad go down here (shrug).” Then, Wednesday, March 5, happened. The day I lost the rose-colored John Jay glasses. Or rather, the night. The dead of night. 

At approximately 1:45 am, I thought my air conditioning had gone AWOL. Or was screaming for help. Turns out, it was the fire alarm! Mind you, I had been in a blissful sleep since around 10 pm. Because the universe decided to take some sliver of pity on me that night, I had the wherewithal to grab a jacket and my ID as I left to head down the stairs. What am I greeted by? SMOKE. HAZE. Wow! I am now fearing for my life. At 2 am, I scurry down a superfluous amount of stairs and emerge into a chaotic gaggle of freshmen. You know what 2 am in the beginning of March is? Cold. And it gets colder as you wait almost an hour for the firemen to figure out what’s going on. I had always thought that I was an optimist, looking on the bright side of life’s little things, until this experience. I don’t think I’ve ever complained more in my life. Something about late-night Hooda’s scent wafting over the burnt-esque stench of JJ’s, combined with gossip at varying decibels, and the intermittent coming and going of firemen with intriguing contraptions, was an amalgamation of the senses that I found difficult to handle on three hours of interrupted sleep. We were let back in around 2:30. I almost would have preferred the cold to what welcomed us to our dorms. The hike back up the stairs included… drippage. In a mangled, somewhat single-file line, we climbed the stairs with whatever could possibly be used held over our heads (to shield us from the mysterious substance dripping from above). My pretty pink, fuzzy slippers were fighting for their lives as they climbed the soggy steps. I don’t know if I just have Odysseus on the brain or what, but this series of events seems to parallel a lot of his journey home. A harrowing journey indeed. 

I won’t act like I had it the worst, though. I got to return to my cozy room, grumble a little, and then go back to sleep. I avoided the flood. The literal flood that affected many on the 13th floor, or so I’ve heard. I still don’t really know how I saw smoke on my floor. It’s become a thing of legend already. Anyway, here’s what I’ve taken away from this experience, almost a week later:
1. Don’t wear shorts to bed when it’s cold outside. You might be forced to wait outside for a flood to be contained.
2. People really do have the capability of sleeping through a fire alarm. I envy them.
3. Stuff really does go down in John Jay. 

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