Something about campus hasn’t felt quite right lately. A bitter chill in the fall air? Lack of adequate seating in the Ratty at prime hours? Fire drills in New Dorm B at 8:30am on a Monday? Although all are true, it feels as if something has permeated deeper, shaken Brown to its core. I finally figured out why when walking through campus the other night. Blueno’s lightbulb has burned out.
My poor big beautiful blue son. I sat with him for three nights in a row with a small book light, so he wouldn’t be alone in the dark—he gets scared of the inebriated children who sometimes crash into him, try to climb him, attempt to pry open his back door and climb into his hollow body, etc. I knew I had to find a solution, so I called facilities.
Phone Call Transcript – Friday, November 17th, 3:32pm
Facilities: Brown Facility Repair.
Sam: Hi, I have a burnt-out light and was hoping someone could come and fix it?
Facilities: Name?
Sam: Samantha Crausman. You?
Facilities: …
Sam: alright, I’ll call you Dave. You seem like a Dave.
Maybe: Dave: …
Sam: [sound of teeth/gums as I crack a smile]
Maybe: Dave: Brown ID number?
Sam: [redacted]
Maybe: Dave: Mother’s maiden name?
Sam: [redacted]. Favorite color?
Maybe: Dave: Purpl—what? No. Where do you live?
Sam: New Dorm B.
Maybe: Dave: Room number?
Sam: [Bugs Bunny impression, said like ‘What’s up Doc?’] Eh, what’s it tooya?
Maybe: Dave: …Alright, horrible impression. We’ve gotta come in and repair the light…
Sam: Ohhhh, I’m so sorry. There’s been a huge misunderstanding, my good man, Dave.
Maybe: Dave: What?
Sam: The light isn’t in my room.
Maybe: Dave: Oh. Common area? Friend’s room?
Sam: No. It’s my son’s light.
Maybe: Dave: Do you live off-campus? We can’t really do anything if you’re not in Brown housing.
Sam: Dave, Dave. Dave! Dave? Dave. My man. You’ve gotta open your ears. Open your heart. It’s the light in my son. Literally supporting his existence because it is built into his spine, holding him up as he towers over the students of this campus, sustaining them with his stupendous sparkle.
Maybe: Dave: …
Sam: My son. Blueno. Can you replace his lightbulb?
Maybe: Dave: …
Sam: Dave? You there, buddy?
[dial tone]
Well, I did my best. Facilities “cares”? Yeah, sure. I guess the only option now is to fix it myself, right? Anybody have a 23-foot ladder and a gigantic lightbulb?
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