In a furious attempt to start the year off quickly, a Rush booth was created in order to inform students of the facts surrounding the Canadian Progressive Metal band, Rush.

Ah, but there were perils, for when we arrived, there were no tables to be had, and the information to be distributed was scarce. Yes, there were 100 pages of Rush related information, but no good vector for disseminating this information. And so we deferred until the next day, when I decided I would make the ultimate sacrifice for the Knighthood and wake up at 7:00 in the morning so I could get a good spot.

And I did. When I walked outside I noticed that something was different. The air was crisp... perhaps a little too crisp. In fact I think it had solidified over night due to the extreme cold. But I pressed onward, trudging through the wet cold slush that had succeeded our previously gaseous atmosphere.

Unfortunately, on the way, I was waylaid by werewolves, and ... ahh, I forgot, there are no Werewolves in the cold! Sorry.

So, actually, I did make it. And when I got off the bus, I noticed something different about the air. It was raining now.

So I trudged through the rain, Knighthood box in hand, and I got the table. And I sat it in the best spot while the other organizations cowered under the wimpy library overhang. And under that table I sat on newspapers.

The conditions were harsh. Gales reached 8 or 9 knots, propelling rain and coldness carriers right onto the table. I was undaunted. I turned on the CD player; I had Rush to keep my alive, to keep me company!

And I distributed fliers from under the table. The people were startled as a hand emerged from that table periodically, distributing easy to carry literatures. One girl sympathized with me and took a flier, calling me "poor baby". One man, capable of avoiding eye contact with me as he walked by, fought back against my slanderous calls to those who passed by:

"Free Propganda?"
"..."
"Confound your ability to avoid eye contact!"
*Angry middle finger extension*

In general, the people were both amazed and amused at my suffering. And so was I. By the 90th minute, I began to sing to the tablecloth, thanking it for shielding me from the elements. I gave a short prayer that someone would come by to continue the Rush turned Suffering booth. Alas, the elements were too harsh and the hour too early. It was the MOST fun 90 minutes I have ever spent by myself while simultaneously feeling cold, tired, and wet.

In my frost-altered state, I wondered what the meaning of this morning had been. As I stumbled delusionally away from the table, unable to feel my far extremities (really!) (that's fingers and toes, phalanges and tarsals) I had a brief moment of lucidity before collapsing into my Compilers class. And during that moment I shook with sobs as I observed a single clear vision, with a singular paramount message which rang through to the very depths of my consciousness:

Rush is the greatest Canadian Progressive Metal band I have ever heard.

-HJ

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