Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, Day 144.
Special Entry: The Untold Stories
I believe the time has come. Months ago, I
started a post-it note list of untold stories during my time abroad. There are
a mere handful of them, and none of them are horrendous. At the time that each
story occurred, though, I was either scared out of my wits, confused, or
amused, or a mix of those and other emotions. There is no rhyme or reason for
why they weren’t told, except for maybe remembering some of them days later.
Here they are: The Untold Stories.
I.
Catastrophe
at Zest
In the third week abroad, I was at Zest, the
diner on campus. I finished my plate of assorted meat and veggies and my salad
bowl and proceeded up to the conveyor belt where the grey trays were placed.
The conveyor belt has three vertical levels of metal compartments, each able to
fit one tray. The belt moves endlessly around in a circle.
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| The Square--Zest is on the right with the lights on. |
I
saw from afar every compartment filled with stacked dishes that night, but
something struck my eye: a fork, of all things, too far out of a bowl, barely
brushing against the wall. The next rotation, though, the fork struck the wall
again and its bowl jutted closer and closer to the edge. I saw it before it
happened. Putting my tray in one hand, I reached out and tried to save the bowl
from falling. It was jammed. I thrust it out, saving the bowl, only to see my
plate slide off my tray in the other hand. Porcelain fireworks spanned the
floor around me. In the second of witnessing this, my tray again tilted and the
bowl crashed to the other side of me. I looked up to a room of people in hushed
silence, all eyes watching me.
Luckily,
the manager came round the corner and broke the tension. I wasn’t responsible
for the damages—she understood the congestion around the conveyor belt, I
assumed. At that, I quickly made my exit.
II.
Trapped
The next story takes place on Monday, the 13th
of February (Day 37). It was a night I went to UEA Choir rehearsal and as I
generally did, I headed off to play in the practice rooms afterwards. The
rehearsal went to 9:30 like usual and soon after, I lost track of time playing
piano. It was around 11 when I called it a night and decided to leave. I
pressed the handicap button, which are strangely used by and large by most
people around campus, and the first door opened. Then there is the outer door.
I pushed. It wouldn’t budge. I pulled. Nothing. It was locked.
Frantically,
I shook the door as if this would help, but I knew it was futile. I was trapped
in the Music Hall. I had thoughts of how I would have to spend the night here,
maybe try to sleep on the carpet. I looked down the corridor to what hopefully
looked like another exit. It was an emergency one and looked like it had an
alarm. I traced my steps back to the front and looked around. To my left was
another door labelled ‘emergency exit’ with an arrow. I thought I heard the
faintest sound of a band playing in a backroom somewhere. Biting my lip, I went
up to the door and entered.
There
was a dark corridor before me, but the sound of the band was louder now. I
inched my way straight through and found myself at a door with a dim street
light showing through from the other side. I heard the band beside another
door, so maybe this was their exit. But it was an emergency one. Oh no, it’s
not budging, and what if there’s an alarm and what if I’m stuck here all night
and—
It
opened. I let go of my anxious breath and walked out into the night air.
III.
The
Carnival Kiss
There is a small club in town named Carnival.
I was there with a group of my flatmates on Friday, the 10th of
February, and the air had a ring of holiday love—er, maybe ring isn’t the right
word. I’ll settle with ‘subwoofer’. This was the weekend to celebrate Valentine’s
Day.
A
girl in a cardboard box came up to me and explained that she was doing a
fundraiser for charity, asking for a pound donation and then allowing the donor
to kiss her. She asked me and I shook my head, smiling. It came to the point
where I explained that I had a girlfriend back home and so I couldn’t. She
said, ‘How about the cheek?’ I still shook my head, but I held out my hand to
give a donation anyway. But she wouldn’t accept it.
‘How
about my hand?’ Suddenly I felt like a medieval knight paying respects to a
lady of a castle, or in this case one made of cardboard, and I accepted. Her
friend and cardboard girl thanked me and went on their way.
IV.
Getting
Nowhere Closer to the Arch
It was Day 83, March 30th, the
second night Katya and I were in Paris. Today we had done so much already, from
Luxembourg Gardens to the Louvre, but we wanted to visit one more thing: the
Arc de Triomphe.
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We
set out from the Avenue des Champs-Elyéese
and made it to the street just before the arch. The yellow lights made the already
majestic arch live up to its victorious title, as it stood utterly beautiful
against the black sky. We wanted to get closer. There was just one problem:
there seemed to be no crosswalk. Cars upon cars zoomed onto the circular street
surrounding the arch.
We concluded that maybe we just had to walk around to the next
street over from Champs-Elyéese Avenue. Maybe there was a walkway there.
Nope. We tried the next. Nope. Let’s try for the next!
‘Hey, isn’t this familiar?’ Katya asked.
‘Um, yes.’ I was confused. We were right back where we started.
Then it dawned on me. ‘Wait…we’ve been walking in a big circle!’
‘Well, it is a roundabout!’
We laughed and found an English-speaking person to tell us
where to go. The walkway was underground. Oh…that made so much sense.
V.
Jumped
This one happened relatively
recently. It starts with the explosive sound of the bedroom door opening and
the whispers of Vinnie and a student (friend of another
flatmate). I was straddling the line between dream and reality at this point,
somehow stuck in this Harry Potter alleyway past midnight while hearing that
the student was looking for a place to sleep that night, not liking
the floor idea.
The alleyway lit up and the voices stopped. I heard a shuffle
of feet. Who was in the alley?
Then I felt something next to me, a body, jump onto my bed,
back first. The shock left me gasping for breath. The alleyway was on its way
out of my mind and I was awake.
‘You…scared…the hell out of me,’ I managed. I heard a giggle
and frowned. In another moment, the girl left for the hallway and I started to
breathe normally again. It took another fifteen minutes, but I finally found
refuge in dreams once more.
That concludes the list of untold
stories. I hope you enjoyed them. As for today, it was a blank—mostly cleaning
and purging my room of the too much stuff I have to bring back. I’ll hopefully
find a way. The highlights were the lunch with Sierra, Emily N,
Emily H, Marika, and Alex (a last hurrah) and my run—I went out and managed to get to the
Railway Station in the city centre in just under 30 minutes. And after all
those times of taking 40-minute bus rides. Gah. Traffic on those narrow streets
really does take its toll. I made it back at the same pace, squaring the run
off at an hour and 26 seconds. I don’t why I feel like being exact, but it
feels good. I was in a good mood the rest of the evening. Oh, Charlie also
returned to the flat, another good thing to the day.
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| Marika, Me, Alex, Emily N, Sierra, Emily H |
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