Night Without End

Someone once played a practical joke on me that took some real planning, materials, and access to the roof of my dormitory.

Lynn H and I were roommates, living on the fourth floor of the dorm, in the same room where my squirt bottle from one of my pranks took its spill, and I ended up reaping the wrath of Karma trying to get it back. Some of my practical jokes were well known by this time. I was an equal opportunity offender, practicing practical jokes on friends and foes alike, so my reputation was out there. I have to believe this prank on Lynn H and me was not random. I believe it was specifically targeted at me.

One morning we awoke to what we thought was still pitch dark. I felt like I had been sleeping forever, yet it seemed dark beyond belief. Our curtains were pulled shut, yet streetlight was always at least faintly visible through them. This time, there was no light whatsoever. I got up, and made my way in the darkness toward our bedroom door, and Lynn asked, “What time is it? Why is it so dark?”

I pulled back the heavy fabric accordion door to look at a clock, and as soon as I did, sunlight pierced the gloom of our bedroom. Not only was it daylight, it was almost 3:00 on the afternoon. We had slept nearly all day. Lynn pulled back the curtain in the bedroom, but it was still dark. We could not imagine what had blocked the light from our room, until I opened the hall door and a friend of ours from down the hall told us.

“Someone lowered a big piece of heavy carpet, bigger than your window, to block the window.” She laughed and came in to have a look at how dark it was inside. “They have it tied to ropes and have the ropes tied to something on the roof.”

We couldn’t figure out how they had gotten up on the roof without attracting notice. It had to be at least two people who managed to get the carpet, ropes, and then somehow get on the roof. The only way to the roof was through a room on our floor, a storage room where girls stashed suitcases unless they needed them, and extra mattresses or bunk beds. There was a steel ladder in that room, which was just a couple of doors east of our suite, and that ladder went to a hatch that maintenance workers used.

The catch was, the room was always locked, and a person had to have a master key or a resident assistant or housemother let them in. This was before we lived with Blinky, the resident assistant down the hall, so it likely wasn’t her. She was far too rigid and perfect to ever pull a prank, anyway. She was out as our list of possible suspects.

We went over every possible friend and acquaintance we could think of, and could not figure out who had done this. I suppose being caught would have led to some disciplinary measure, so no one ever told who had done it. Maintenance eventually showed up, and laughingly hauled the carpet back up to the roof and disposed of it in a dumpster out back.

I never knew who did this, but the mystery has been on my mind now for over forty years. If anyone wants to confess now, I’d still like to know who did it. I don’t think the university can revoke our degrees. It was a champion of elaborate practical jokes, nearly as good as “Animal House” characters ever thought of doing. I’m just sorry I was the recipient and not the perpetrator.

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