CHAPTER 6 – OH CHRISTMAS TREE!

Although Communication Arts consisted of five different programs, we always made sure we stuck together. To tell you the truth, even though we were quite loud and very obnoxious at the best of times, we were probably the most popular program in the College.
So when it came down to pranks between Comm Arts programs, it wasn’t uncommon for two programs to team up on another. Radio and graphics against Video, or Journalism and Radio against photography. You get the idea.

Christmas 1997 - Journalism and Radio Vs. Graphic Arts.

To show their holiday spirit, the graphics class would always place a Christmas tree in their classroom. And anyone who walked by their room would be able to see it in all its glory. And every year it had the Comm Arts touch; in the place of an angel, a beer bottle. A common topic of conversation in the hallways during Christmas time was was plotting to get the tree and move it into another room, but it never seemed to happen.

Enter the duo with the master plan, sure it was spur of the moment, but hell was it successful.

Tuesday evenings at the Riverside Pub was our Mountain Club night, which was basically a pub night for NBCC Woodstock students sponsored by Moosehead Breweries. Every night we would have a pool tournament, and whatever money was raised as an entrance fee minus money to pay for the table, was put into a pot to pay for our end of year bash/drunk. Since it was the final tourney before everyone left for Christmas, the special that night was rum and eggnog. Mmmmm yummy.
Two of the biggest rum and eggnog fans in the Mountain Club were my good friend and radio student RedDawg Wells, and myself, being of the Journalism persuasion. After the tourney was completed, and I believe Kimmy C., was the victor of the evening, Mr. RedDawg and myself sat down with the rest of our student friends who were basically there just to booze it up. For the most part, it was the same folks playing pool every week.

Please don’t ask me how the conversation about the graphics tree came to be. (Quite frankly we didn't know how half of our conversations started). All I know is that it did, and we thought, being as lubed as we were, moving the tree from the graphics room to the radio studio was a great idea. There was no turning back…and no one else could know about our devious plan. (evil laughter fills your head)

Being that everyone else were pretty lit, our escape was easy. We just got up and walked out, with no questions asked. Most of the people couldn't see through their beer goggles anyway, so it wasn't really that big of a task.

The pub itself was basically right across the parking lot from the college, (talk about prime location), and good thing to, cause in the state we were in we weren’t going to be vertical much longer. So the faster we could get in and out the better.

The college closed around 10 p.m every night., so we had a very small window in which to work in. We stumbled and giggled our way past the security guard in the cafeteria up to the Comm Arts wing, and down the hall to the Graphics Department. Especially around Christmas time, a lot of projects were due before everyone left for their holiday, so you never knew who was around doing some last minute assignment. The print washer in the photo dark room was running, so we knew someone was around, not that we cared much.

The coast was clear. Time to make our move.

Just as we were ducking into the Graphics room, we heard someone come down the hall towards us so we stayed put until the footsteps disappeared and grabbed the tree. To this day, with the smell of smoke and booze just wafting off of us, I am still not quite sure how we didn't get busted, but I digress. The radio studio was a ways down the hall, and there were only a few strategic spots we could hide if needed but we made it with no incidents. Or so we thought.

We accomplished our goal, the Christmas tree was now located in the radio broadcasting teaching studio but being as drunk as we were we didn’t notice the trail of pine needles and water we left behind us on the way to the station. If it were a few here and there, it probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But it looked like the whole freakin tree.

We were about half way back to the graphics lab when we were stopped by Dave D., one of the NBCC Woodstock janitorial/maintance staff and one of the biggest scam artists known to human kind, and he wasn’t a happy camper. He asked us if we saw anything, and surprisingly we were able to answer him with a straight and imfatic no and acted just as concerned as he was.

By this time the blood to alcohol ratio was quickly turning back to the bloods favor, so we jaunted back over to the pub and drank our faces off for the rest of the evening. Every once in a while RedDawg and I would look at each other and laugh our collective asses off at our accomplishment thinking it was over.

But we were wrong. The next day people were still talking about it. And you knew there was something big going down when the principal of the college made his way upstairs. Mac would only wander into the Comm Arts wing if either A) he was lost or B) someone was in trouble. Inquires were made by instructors to students, but no one seemed to be able to place Reddawg or me there. So we got off scott free.

A few days later, after the smoke had cleared, someone in Graphics caught word that it was us that did it. And sticking with the Comm Arts credo, we stuck together and not a word was spoken. We all just continued over to the pub once again and devised even more evil plans…