I could say that one time (maybe two) that I earned a high enough score at the horrid testing center to see my number flashing on the score board. Or that one class that the teacher surprised us with no final. Or the time that I got the heck out of Provo (only to be dragged back kicking and screaming). Just doesn’t do the shenanigans that a handful of young adults were always up to quite the justice we deserve.
So to specify, the following events occurred during my sophomore year. Pre-marriage. In the depths of the painful single life at BYU.
My roommate and I had had enough of a girl above us and her make out sessions outside our window. Her and her beau seemed to think that it was ok to park in a no parking zone as long as the car was still running. At midnight or later, headlights and a running engine were not anything we welcomed.
As this happened night after night we knew the drill. After some lovely get-to-know-you time they would leave the car (running) and he would walk our neighbor to her door. So we took it upon ourselves to teach them a lesson.
When they left the car and were out of sight we made our move. My roommate turned off the car, threw the keys somewhere inside, locked the doors and we ran.
The aftermath was fun though we hadn’t done as much damage as we had hoped. After some time they were able to get in the car through a narrowly opened window.
The best was watching their confusion from the comfort of a neighboring apartment.
And then there was that time when we stole a volleyball team poster from campus. Then I had to stare at that poster for months.
And then there was that time when we got in a war with some children that frequented our complex. This resulted in the suicide attempt of an estimated dozen goldfish (not the crackers) on our living room floor.
And then there was that time when a boy took us for a ride in his mustang. He seemed to regret getting an automatic because he liked unnecessarily shifting through the gears that most people use twice in their life.
And then I left BYU.