Da Bomb

We had a bit of fun this morning. "Fun" in the unpleasant, sarcastic sense, of course, not in the actual meaning of the word. When I got down to the dorm lobby a little before 8, there was a cop waiting at the door. Hm, I thought, this seems a little strange, but maybe he's just checking in on his morning rounds.

Wrong! Turns out somebody found a "suspicious package" right in front of our dorm. Suspicious package--I imagine a shady looking box with dark glasses, a greasy coat, and a sleazy mustache loitering beneath a streetlight. Ah, DC, where there's a surprise around every corner and a suspicious package on every street!

God knows who put the box there, or why. But if their goal was to cripple the federal government, they succeeded, albeit in a very small way. The police put our building under lockdown--nobody gets out unless they want a bullet in their leg. Thus, dozens of congressional interns were cooped up in the dorm. For one day, their bosses experienced the agony of brewing their own coffee and opening their own mail.

Time ticked away. 8:01...8:02...skipping ahead a bit...8:07...skipping ahead a little more...8:09...damn, this skipping business is tricky. Let us simply say that it was a long, long wait. I honestly felt very sorry for the policeman assigned to guard our door. He had to deal with a horde of disgruntled think tank researchers, congressional PR interns, and newspaper factcheckers. Plus, what if he had to use the bathroom? If he left his post, somebody would try to escape. Perhaps they had snipers on the building across the way for that very purpose.

One peculiar thing about the whole kerfluffle. I never felt a bit worried. At no point did I think, "Holy cow, there might be a bomb out there capable of blowing us all into the bite-size chunks." I only thought, "Damn, I can't believe I'm missing a free breakfast." Either I'm very courageous or very shallow and unreflective. Given past experiences, the latter seems more likely.

Also working in favor of our survival: this dorm was seemingly built to withstand a hydrogen bomb detonated five feet away. Godzilla couldn't knock it over with a...uh...um...building-knocker-over.

By the late morning, rebellion was setting in. Remember that scene in "Mutiny on the Bounty" where the people on the Bounty mutiny? Me neither, but it probably looked a lot like the dorm lobby at 11. Somebody approached the cop every five minutes with an impassioned plea: "But Congressman Smith can't survive without my help!" Others slumped against the wall--utterly sapped of all their energy before tea-time. Full disclosure: I was one of them.

Still others took the opportunity to socialize. I hope against hope that at least one marriage will come from the connections made during this bomb threat. It will be wonderfully awkward whenever they get asked, "So, how did you two meet?"

Rather than waste my free time doing nothing, I wasted it by thinking up elaborate escape plans. Perhaps the police could provide us all with "Hurt Locker" style suits. Or maybe they could roll a Humvee right up to the door and drop us off a few blocks away. Or maybe they could let us make a run for it. The bomb can't get everybody, right?

The story's ending is anticlimactic. They let us out at 12:49 EST. No idea what happened to Mr. Suspicious Package. One person said that they "detonated" it. And I did hear a short, sharp Bang! around noon. It sounded like somebody had stuffed a tin can with M-80s. Maybe that's what they did. M-80s: not just for blowing off your fingers anymore!

What did I learn from the bomb threat? First, always carry a book. You'll never know when you get trapped somewhere and need something to read. Second, you can rearrange the letters in Adam Smith to spell "Admit sham." Remember when I said I didn't waste my free time? I lied.