[Disclaimer: This article was written before the recent passing of Pope Francis.]
A couple Thursdays ago, during the dinner rush at the Deece, I was catching a meal with all of the boys from my Stufel group. I was telling everybody this story about how I opened the door to the wrong dorm room by accident and everybody at the table thought it was really funny.
Jerry was like, “Charles, you’re so crazy that I bet you’d drink the ice cream water!” and everybody started laughing. It was a funny joke, and I thought that was the end of it. The following week, when we got dinner, I was a little quiet, and Darren turned to me and said to the group, “He’s thinking about that ice cream water!” Everybody started laughing, and then Marcus called me “ice cream water guy,” and now all the guys in the group call me that.
Next Thursday, the second time we got dinner, I was like, what the hell, it would be really funny if I actually drank the ice cream water, so I took one of the plastic cups by the drink machine and brought it over to the little vat of creamy water where the ice cream scoopers go. When no one was looking, I dipped my cup in and got a full glass. I brought it over, stood in front of the table and chugged it. I looked at everybody and they all looked really confused. Darren gave me a weird look.
“What was that?”
“The ice cream water.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yup, I just got a cup and dunked it in the ice cream water. Then I drank it.”
“Bro. Wait, stop. You’re kidding, right?” Darren was paper-white now, and he looked really concerned.
Jerry chimed in.“That’s, like, really messed up.” All the guys nodded their heads. “You guys kept saying that I should drink it!”
“We were just joking around, man! We didn’t think you’d actually do it!”
Jerry looked at Darren. “Dude, I think we should call CRC. I think he’s going to need to get him to the hospital. I’m really freaking out man.” Suddenly, my face felt really hot, but I wasn’t sure if it was just because everybody was staring at me or the Deece ice cream water. Five minutes later, two EMS guys come over to my table, and they’re really serious. One of them’s like, “If you’re gonna get through this, we need you to calm down.”
“I’m relaxed. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Sir, PLEASE CALM DOWN!” he replied. Everybody looked over at us. Suddenly, a third EMS person came in with the gurney, and he’s like, “Is he calm?”
“No.”
They took me out of the Deece to an ambulance. It was this weird orange-colored ambulance, and it said “super ambulance” on the side of it and had monster truck wheels, which didn’t seem like a good thing. When we were in the super ambulance, one of the EMTs said something to the other one:
“Good thing they called the super ambulance. This shit looks serious.” Meanwhile, the super ambulance crushed something large and car-like below it. We got to the hospital, and they pushed me right through the E.R. and down the hallway. Suddenly, I started feeling really lightheaded and passed out. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital room and a doctor with a name tag that read Dr. Ihavamedikalisens was by my bed, and he started explaining what was going on in a gentle tone.
“Basically, it’s not looking good. When the whey proteins in the ice cream interact with the room temperature water, they start producing toxocytozine, and then your ribostraphephephulene levels start plummeting because of your body’s genopsychoflamation response. It’s treatable, though, I think. You’ll be alright as long as we monitor you for a few days and give you some serums.” I would have found this information mildly comforting if Dr. Medikalisenz wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit while we were talking. “You’ll be fine as long as you didn’t consume more than three fluid ounces.”
“I drank an entire cup.” The doctor sighed really loudly. And then he sighed again.
“That’s a lot of toxocyzine. Like really bad. Like, bro, what were you thinking? Those guys were joking! It was a freaking joke! Anyways, we’re going to need to monitor you here for the next few weeks. Well, maybe a few years actually.” Bummer.
Here I sit in my isolation pod, drafting emails for my professors about why I won’t be in class for the next few weeks/years. Maybe I can get some extensions. The doctor told me I may never eat ice cream again which really sucks. Charles Ladder Jr., Misc Reporter at-large, telling you to lay off the ice cream water.
