I've worn many hats in my life -- Egyptologist, shark tamer, 3-time regional fiddlin' champion -- but the hat that I think fits best is that of an explorer. I'm always looking to explore new worlds and seek out new civilizations, so it was only natural that I set my sights on the monolithic glass sarcophagus known as the Lattie F. Coor building. So please, enjoy this travelogue.
DAY ONE: After receiving a "hot tip" from my associate (to protect the innocent and for brevity's sake, let's just call him "Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn") that some of the classrooms in the Coor building featured a "laptop computer" with every seat. I was immediately spellbound at this technologic marvel. So I took off to see such a thing for myself.
With another associate in tow, let's call him "Dennis Eckersley," I embarked upon my journey. Sure enough, after a little trial and error, I found the promised land of the laptops. Even more enticing, the classroom was completely empty. After a few thoughtful minutes of Eckersley and I instant messaging each other from across the room, Eckersley had the brilliant idea to sit at the teacher's desk and pretend like, if you can follow this, he was a teacher teaching a class!
Eckersley quickly introduced himself as "Professor Jackass," and through the aid of the drop-down projector screens found in the classroom, gave a brief yet touching lecture on the nutritional content of the Taco Bell food he had for lunch. Seeing potential in his actions for expansion, I assumed the mantle of professor in the classroom. By using the room's extraordinary touch-controlled screen, I dropped down both screens and played a music video that Solzhenitsyn had produced, starring Eckersley.
Check out the video that is popular in the new Coor building.
DAY TWO: Having told Solzhenitsyn the full range of the awe-inspiring wonders of Coor, he was soon eager to start Phase II. We took a quick tour of the many floors of the building, with the highlight being the fourth floor's Medieval and Renaissance Studies center. Although we were disappointed to not find guys eating giant turkey legs on a stick while sitting around a round table and yelling "Huzzah," what we found was no less fascinating, i.e., a bunch of offices and some books.
Heading to the same basement-level room that Eckersley and I had explored previously, we were disappointed to find that the room was locked. However, as a seasoned explorer, I quickly figured that they wouldn't deny a disabled person a little breaking and entering fun, so I hit the handicapped access button. Sure enough, the doors opened as if by divine intervention. Seeing as how God above was obviously imploring us to cause more mischief, we again led our own class and watched that video.
DAY THREE: After the two prior ventures, Aleksandr and I knew the time was right for one more big score before getting out of the game forever. So in the veil of moonlight, we spent Saturday night popping the rest of the Coor building's cherries. From being pushed around in a mail crate all across the third floor or taking metal stands found inside a storage closet and having a light saber duel, we did it all.
Now, surely, late at night, on a day where there weren't even any classes, that same room wouldn't fall prey to the old handicapped button malfunction. Well, if you're wearing socks, prepare to have them knocked off, because it sure did, and so did like three other rooms. So we conducted a brief class called "PHI 415: The Vagina Experiment" and played an intense game of tic-tac-toe on the whiteboard.
It's definitely a comforting thought that a building such as this, which ASU spent something like 89 kajillion wing-wangs on, can suffer from such glaring security flaws. That's all right, though, ASU's loss is the prankster's gain. I hope I can inspire a new generation of explorers, so that's why I'm starting a new contest. The reader who e-mails me their best (and true) story of adventure within the walls of Coor wins a grand prize of a million hugs. Second place gets a signed (by me) copy of Toni Morrison's "Beloved."
Here's a suggestion to get the ball rolling: most of the rooms have a DVD player, so it would probably be fun to make some popcorn and catch a flick. I've heard that you've never really seen "Thelma & Louise" until you've seen it in L1-14.
Albert Ching is an assistant professor of shark taming. Reach him at albertxii@hotmail.com.
