A Perfectly Splendid Battle

Danya and I were talking on the phone last night at about 9:30 PM. It was one of those delightfully random conversations that one has sometimes with people whom one loves.

"Did you know that they rehearse greyhound races beforehand? They see which color bunny makes them run fastest. That's why they need me. I'm an art major." He said. I chuckled.

"Oh, really? You know, Danya, when we get home this summer you need to teach me some stuff about art history. I'm interesting in seeing how it relates to literary history."

"Oh, wow, Sis! It's so cool! You remember back in high school, watching all the movements of society? That was what was fun. Society, Christy, society! And the permutations thereof! Ohhhh...the permutations..."

I laughed a laugh of pure pleasure. Danya has always been one of those rare people who sees, and--mirabile visu!--is excited about the intersection of the arts. We kicked around comparative studies for awhile, talking art theory history and literary theory history with respect to answering the questions: what is art? What is literature?

It was somewhere in the middle of all this that the bathroom door burst open, and seven girls armed to the teeth with pillows began to beat me about the head. My cell phone went flying. I picked it up, said a hasty goodbye ("'Scuse me, Danya... you understand, it's a pillowfight. I have to go kill somebody. I love you!" And he understood perfectly, because he and Mike and Nate raised me in the grand tradition of pillowfighting), and caught up my weapon.

"You girls are toast! Who do we kill next?" Paradoxical, I know, but the desire for personal revenge in such instances as these generally mutates quickly into a longing to join and conquer someone else.

They welcomed me, and we proceeded through Dorm 3, plundering and rampaging, then to Dorm 2, and finally to Dorm 1.

"We're not actually going to go hit D5, are we?" I asked. "We can't even go into the wings!"

"We'll hit the lounges." Sarah replied. "Girls, move out! D5 next!"

So we ran. By this time my Viking blood had begun to assert itself, and all those fond memories of passionate pillowfights, daring raids, and glorious ambushes as a child with my brothers had risen up from their dormant state. I was positively thirsting for somebody to whack, and girls just aren't very satisfying on that front, because they tend to cower under blows (from this category I except Amanda, Emily T., my sisters, and Margaret, who are all quite brave about pillowfighting. They do their gender credit.)

So we came pounding into D5, and plunged into the gloom of the first floor lounge, where Jonathan Kanary astonished me by using all the classical techniques which my brothers taught me (that of sandwiching your opponent's pillow under one arm and beating them about with the pillow held in your other hand). I was astonished because I know that he only has one sister, and where he learned to fight like that I can't imagine! Of course I have been too well trained to let go my pillow, so I maintained a death-grip on it with one hand while using the other to ward of his blows. This tends to lead to stalemate, but is very satisfying in the meantime, as both people feel that they are in a position of advantage.

Well, we were driven back, and that was inglorious. We progressed up to Founders, lured the security guard outside, and ambushed him. By this time D5 had collected a few brave souls and their supersoakers, so the girls decided to make a hard-hitting raid against D4, and ran around the far side of the pond to get there. We made it just in time to barricade ourselves into the D4 lobby, as six or seven big goons stood just outside with water weapons.

Problem.

We tried a parley (really it is NOT good to have a waterfight indoors) but they would have nothing of it, so we broke through their ranks and got soaked in the process and flanked them by regrouping in D5. There we massacred and were massacred, and I fought Jonathan again and came to the same stalemate, except that this time I was wet and exhausted and had been running and fighting nonstop for about half an hour. Then we had to fight our way back through the ranks of guys with water buckets, and struggle somehow back to the safety of the dorms. When I got back to my room, I took one look in the mirror and began to laugh.

Mom called, and I was up until 2 AM on the phone. The fight amused her greatly.

"Was it cathartic, honey?"

"Oh wow, Mummy, yes! It felt so good!"

And it did feel good. SO GOOD. It's been a long time since I had a fierce, clean, all-out war with a bunch of comrades-in-arms and worthy opponents.

I miss my brothers, but I'm grateful for last night. Thank you, Lord, for pillowfighting! Sit vivere semper!