The disturbance in the Force has been corrected. After several weeks of sleeping in the gym, the boys on tonight's Overnight Camp are sleeping in the ship. There are more boys than girls, and everyone knows that the larger of the two groups always sleeps in the Voyager.
I have access to my desk and a fairly quiet room surrounding me. The gym is louder with every noise amplified by the volume of the room. I still have to content with what I think are the brightest EXIT signs in in the free world and air conditioners made for rooms twice the size of my classroom (I think the District purchased them used from NASA's wind tunnels at Moffit Field, California). The best thing is knowing that I won't be woken up in the middle of the night by a collapsing cot caused by a careless boy who wasn't listening to my 'How To Get Into a Space Center Cot' demonstration given before lights out.
"Attention, Attention. Stand by for a demonstration on the proper procedure for entering and exiting a Space Center Cot." The boys give me that 'are you serious' look. I continue. "To enter a cot one first finds the exact center of the cot. I suggest you look for the center set of legs. Once the exact center is found, one sits down carefully, not wanting to rock the cot too much. Think of getting in and out of an unstable row boat. Once seated, you may then turn 90 degrees and stretch out. Use the same procedure when exiting a cot. Your cot will not collapse in these procedures are followed exactly."
When I'm sleeping in front of my desk the only thing I listen for are sleepwalking boys who open one of the emergency exits in a bid for freedom from whatever haunts their sleep. Oh, there is also the thing I listen for, a boy tumbling from the top tier of our 3 level bunk beds. The fall can be nasty and painful if one measures true pain by the amount of weeping and wailing produced by the injured camper.
Jon Parker just disturbed my solitude and wistful enjoyment of sitting at my desk as the clock struck midnight.
"This broke off the Voyager Right Wing desk," he said while holding up a long section of the blue trim surrounding the Voyager's desk top. I wondered if this was his calculated attempt at ruining my night. I'm tired, its late and I've much to write and even more to do. I wanted to take the long blue shard and play out a scene I affectionately call 'Victor, the Vampire Slayer' where killing the messenger is common fare.
My brain went into work mode. I thought of the time it would take to have the District's wood shop make a new desk top. My calculations indicated there was at least a 90% chance I wouldn't live long enough to see the repair completed to my satisfaction. I handed Jon a roll of clear plastic packing tape and a pair of scissors.
"Do the best you can," I ordered. I asked him to document the midnight repair for a special PBS documentary on 'The Insane and How They Hide Among Us."
The Damaged Desk. You can see the large shard missing from the bottom of the blue trim.
Jon is holding the shard into place while he peels off a section of packing tape and applies it using an elbow as a brace.
Jon's adds a few finishing touches before calling the repair compete.
I'll have all our inquisitive Troubadour readers know how proud we are of the fact that many sections of our simulators are held together with tape, wire and generous amounts of prayer fussed over by our more religiously inclined staff and volunteers. You'll never know where the repairs are unless you look long and hard. We have a policy to counter snoops like that. We go to red alert, switch to red lights and release the dreaded Slime Devil. Moments later, the snooping child is showered with Slime Devil venom from our Enola Gay Atomic Action Water Blaster. Down to Sick Bay he goes for a lengthy recovery. A recovery not even a generous amount of M&M's can shorten.
Well, its time for bed. I'm tired and ready for some down time with my pad, pillows and blankets waiting for me on the floor in front of my desk!
Mr. W.
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