How I think it got there...

My residence hall in college was a ten story building. I remember I had friends that lived on around the third or fourth floor. You could look out their window and see the rooftop of the cafeteria in the adjacent building. I was always fascinated with what you could see on that roof--after a weekend it would be empty beer cans, after a term finished it would be books, and at the end of the year it would be big ticket items that lazy guys wouldn't want to move, like couches and mini-fridges. I never knew how they got some of those things out the small windows, the windows with what we called "suicide bars" that were put there so despondent kids wouldn't jump. It was college, we were invincible, and where there was a will there was more beer... which usually lead to a way of getting a ratty old couch out a window.

The other day when I was at the gym, admiring the view from the elliptical, I noticed that I also had a view of the rooftop of the building next door. It was pristine--very unlike the Centennial Halls cafeteria roof--except for one item. On the roof there was one compact disc. It got me thinking about the random things I'd see on roofs in college and I imagined stressed out students, strung out on caffeine and No-Doz, post-final, thinking that the best way to celebrate and stick it to that Organic Chemistry prof would be to launch the book out the window. I'm sure they must have felt some release somehow. Take that, O-Chem!

I imagine the CD must have met a similar fate... one of the aerobics instructors must have had a particularly frustrating step class (no, I said grapevine, step, clap, what's wrong with you people?!), had a major meltdown (I picture steps and risers scattered everywhere in her wake), and sent her CD filled with Jock Jams, More Jock Jams, and Even More Jock Jams, soaring.

Note to self: Save yourself. Stick to the elliptical. Avoid the crazy step classes.