This was the final event out of all the ones I’d fought to attend, after my panic at the idea of not making it to five total, and it was also the least eventful. The “Rampages” only got more subdued as time went on, or maybe it was just too cold for people to make the trip, or maybe the semester was just winding down. I’m surprised we haven’t had any snow by now.
But besides the music, it was mostly quiet conversation between small groups of friends. The woman at the door gave me one of those wristbands they always do (the kind that only come off with extreme force), and I had to explain to her that I was signing in to create some evidence that I’d come. I’m not sure how I expected to find that evidence later, but it made sense to me in the moment.
The last time I went to a Rampage, everyone had been grabbing Halloween candy early, and I’d shown up to vulture-peck over the remainder before I left. This time, there wasn’t very much to speak of, and although they were handing out desserts to everyone by the end of the night I showed up barely too late to get any. When I was finally about to leave, shortly before the Den closed up, I grabbed a little paper bowl, poured it full of M&Ms, put some tinfoil over it and cradled it like a secret parcel on my way out.
I stopped for a moment, actually, to witness the final moment of the final Late Night of my school career. Everyone gathered around in dress-up material around a big camera and had their picture taken, even the woman who’d sworn me onto the premises. They were all dressed in jokey political stuff, oversized buttons and red-and-blue Dr. Seuss hats, and they said something nice about Late Night instead of “cheese!” They assembled before I could join, and I was worried about setting my new treasure down and having to eat a real dinner at least as much as I was worried about intruding into a moment between all the organizers, so I smiled and waited for them to disperse. Turns out the camera would’ve put all of the pictures on a website anyway, so I’m glad I was tempted to stand away from it.
It was cold when I left. It had long since stopped being pleasant to take an evening hike back to my apartment, but the breeze wasn’t biting yet. I put the M&Ms on a little shelf between my couch and my kitchen, and I felt an odd sense of accomplishment at surviving and meeting all my requirements. I almost wish I had a picture of it to put up here.
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