Harder Getting Out Than Getting In (Adventures in Being Trapped)

First, I would just like to point out that nothing illegal happened.

Also, I know what it feels like to be one of America's Dumbest Criminals.

For the record, sometimes things happen that aren't planned out and there's nothing you can do but call for help.

The other day, my friend Ellie and I ventured out to our university's maintenance building. We were looking for some goods that were being thrown away after being replaced from the dorms and were hoping to hit some sort of second-hand jackpot. The physical plant compound consists of three old and abandoned warehouses surrounded completely by a six-foot tall fence with barbed wire gracing the top, daring any thieves to climb over. Since the gate was open, we simply drove in.

At the back of the compound is the greatest junkyard for decorating an empty house possible. Park benches were stacked against a wall, music stands with the school's name spray-painted lay piled in a bundle, a few chairs were strewn here and there and then, we saw the prize.

A personal hobby of mine is shopping cart wrangling. There's just something in grabbing a shopping cart that been left alone and taking it home with me to a better home that just brings satisfaction to life. Not stealing, my friends. Liberation. Giving the cart a better life. So when we saw the shopping carts sitting all alone, we knew we had to take them home and keep them safe. After all there are shopping cart kidnappers everywhere. Luckily, Ellie's SUV was big enough to hold an entire herd of carts, so we packed them and our other discoveries in and headed towards the exit.

Except that we could no longer leave. As we were debating on how to best fit everything into the car, the workers must not have realized that we were in the back of the compound and left for home. And locked the gate behind them.

Freedom can be so far away.

Claustrophobia began setting in a few seconds after the realization hit us. While I have always imagined cool places to be locked in for the night, i.e. libraries, museums, aquariums and zoos, junkyards have never been on my list. Too creepy.

We drive around looking for someone to be left working behind in the compound. Nothing. Search for another exit. Nothing. They should have called this place Alcatraz for it's unattaintable access to freedom. After talking about perhaps pulling a Fast and the Furious move and simply busting through the fence, we scratch that idea and call defeat.

We have to call Campus Safety.

Campus Safety. The security team at our university. The people who tend to destroy all fun activities at school with their appearance and who's parking tickets on my car are the bane of my existence. They are also one step below mall cops.

Calling Campus Safety is about as much torture as a person can receive. It's admitting that they have some importance in life and giving an ego-boost to their already gargantuan self-reputation.

Ellie starts the phone conversation like this: "I'll bet you've never heard this one before...". After her retelling of the details, the other line is dead silent. Finally, "Umm...wait...so you're telling us you're trying to break out...?"

Exactly.

So, after trying to figure out who possesses the keys for our prison, 45 minutes after our call for help, Campus Safety drives up and an "officer" walks up to the gate with a certain pompous swagger that all security guards have and grins at us.

"This is one for the books," he grins as he unlocks the gate and sends us into freedom.

At least they failed to notice our shopping cart herd coming out with us.

Devastation

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." C.S. Lewis

The tornadoes came and destroyed our city

185 homes completely devastated

We went yesterday to try and help pick up the pieces

Fallen trees were cut and taken to be burned

Food and water were distributed to those who needed it

Undamaged items were salvaged from demolished houses

We couldn’t get much though because the insurance companies have yet to come out and assess the damage

Midge's House

I went over to help Midge salvage her house but spent most of the time hugging her and listening to how she survived

Although I had taken a crisis intervention class for this very reason, I hated that I actually had to use it

She’s still in survival mode but the exhaustion and mourning is starting to set in

Aerial view of the neighborhood

Pain is mixed into the air as much as the smoke is from the burn piles

Everywhere there’s brokenness

But as we hauled trees away, more hands came to join us

Men and women from the community brought their chainsaws to help us

Churches and businesses made more than enough food for us and even passed out sunscreen

Neighbors emptied out their spare bedrooms for other families to join them in their homes

Friendships were made and healing started to grow

Through the sweat, laughter emerged.

Many things were destroyed Wednesday

But yesterday, community was created

"The American city should be a collection of communities where every member has a right to belong. It should be a place where every man feels safe on his streets and in the house of his friends. It should be a place where each individual's dignity and self-respect is strengthened by the respect and affection of his neighbors. It should be a place where each of us can find the satisfaction and warmth which comes from being a member of the community of man. This is what man sought at the dawn of civilization. It is what we seek today."

Lyndon B. Johnson