Throughout the past little-over-a-week I have had two contrasting experiences regarding two "Icebreaker" events held by two nontrasting* clubs. This experiential contrast was entirely my fault.
The first of these two events took place on a weekend. A fateful Saturday. A fateful Saturday during which I would have to commute to campus like a bloody sucker. Man. Now, my commute is rather long, but so long as I leave early enough I always get there in time to be an hour early for class.
Unfortunately, on this Saturday, I did not leave early enough to get there in time for this Icebreaker, nor to get there in time to be an hour early to it. What's worse is that a crucial bus to my route, apparently, takes weekends off. Thus, at the bus stop I had to trade that bus ride for a route of two busses hastily formulated by Google Maps on the smartphone I now own.**
Eventually I made my way to campus. The Icebreaker started at 6:00 PM, doors opening at 5:15 PM. By the time I was at the place it was 6:50. I needed to use the washroom. So I locked myself in the unisex washroom in the pertinent building and spent half of my time in there using actually the washroom, while the other half was spent trying to hype myself up to the tall task of showing to an Icebreaker late.
I left the washroom, which was on the first floor, and made my way for floor dos, where the event was being held in a big room at the end of the hall. I made my way for it, before suddenly deciding that the offshoot hallway into a backhall looked mighty appealing, and veering down that instead.
There, I stashed myself in a nook containing two doors into electrical rooms or whatnot. I sat down on the floor next to the wall, and remained like that for a bit.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the world will not end if I am subjected to the embarrassing experience which beckoned me. I stood up, and made my way back to the main hall.
Now, there were two sets of double doors which led into the room the Icebreaker was being held in. The closer of the set of sets was open, and was decorated to clearly indicate that there indeed was an event conspiring within. Its farther counterpart was closed. And past that closed door the hall ended.
I walked to the closer set of doors. One might notice with disdain that this was merely a prerequisite for walking to the farther set of doors. For I noticed with disdain the sheer amount of people in that big room, all sitting in circles for some activity.
So I amend my previous statement. I did not walk to the door. I walked by it. As aforementioned this was the end of the line, or at least the hall. The only possible place that somebody walking past those closer, open double doors could be aiming for is the nook by the second set of double doors.
Which is where I stood, then sat, then considered. I'm acting bloody aloof, or rather acting the more fitting adjective of stupid. I considered that if I'm truly to do embody this, I may as well be sophisticated about it. In the nook I took out the book*** I'd been reading lately.
I sat there reading for perhaps forty-five to fifty minutes.
7:50 PM was then the time, 8 PM instigating the Icebreaker's end. I did not want to stick around and see whether they'd decide to open the double doors I was sitting by.
I'd heard voices in the hall, earlier. I wasn't fond of the prospect of people seeing my emergence from a doornook, but still took the risk of leaving. Thankfully, the sources of the voices had since left.
Then I bought a mildly overpriced chocolate bar from the vending machine and left for the commute home.
It was a rather disheartening experience in many aspects, but I got some reading done and procured this interesting, albeit embarrassing, icebreaker story****.
But I should consider myself lucky I escaped this ordeal with my life. I'd heard of a guy called Leon Trotsky who was actually killed by an Icebreaker. Scary to think about!
Ugh. I was planning on continuing this post with the rather shorter story of the second Icebreaker, but I kind of don't feel like writing anymore (even though I've already got a few things down for that next bit) and this one's already long enough as is, I reckon.
Therefore, this is Not Billison, signing off. Or perhaps never signing on in the first place, and merely reading outside the signing room.
*"Not contrasting." For context, the clubs were an anime club and a Japanese culture club. Surely you weren't expecting my attendance to a power-lifting club or the like? (Though, in my final high school year, I did put my name on the sign-up sheet for a power-lifting club run by some guys I knew. I never went to any meeting, but from what I hear it all fell apart anyway.)
**Which has a gem-studded clear case filled with sparkles (it came with the phone... and plus is pretty), behind which I indeed put a sticker. It features hcnone's rendition of Sei Asagiri from VA-11 Hall-A: Cyberpunk Bartending Action.
***I am literally Mai Minakami from Nichijou: My Ordinary Life. And for those curious, the book was Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett. I've finished it by now. Was quite good, though I don't think I'd hold it over Hogfather. Am now reading Long Earth by Pratchett and Stephen Baxter, which is very good, and coincidentally has in common with Thief of Time the presence of a Lobsang.
****Which I told to a friend who spurred me to retell it, subsequently, to three or four more friends in order to hammer to me the point that I can be better. And, y'know what, maybe I can! There's always next time.