          Road Trip Part III:  GROUND ZERO

          2 am and the strike team assembles
          for action.
          Two loads of crew driven to the destination
          in a beat-up old Datsun, rumbling through the deserted streets.
          Truly the stealth vehicle of choice.

          A rolling exit from the car ensures that no one is spotted.
          Blasts of white fog and a million needles
          greet our bodies.
          It's starting to seem like it's either too late
          or too cold
          (or both)
          for this operation.
          But what the hell, go out with a bang.

          Team one heads for the rigged doors and bolts
          up the stairs
          through the blinding fluorescent lights and 
          eerie silence
          in order to get things rolling.

          Team two is meant to cause a diversion
          so that the real action goes unnoticed.  
          Commando crawls over 10 foot walls 
          and through groves of frosted pines,
          with a bag full of unstable fireworks,
          feels like a journey across the arctic to
          blow up Santa's workshop.

          A quick radio call and the plan goes into motion.
          Unfortunately, it seems Duracell didn't bother to
          test their batteries to -30 Celsius.
                    Those bastards.

          The prickling numbness starts to creep through the 
          gloves about 20 minutes later.
     
          Every flash of headlights means another dive into 
          the firs.

          Making the move to the fireworks' ground zero
          goes for not.
          A glance up the silhouetted tower reveals
          four
          new, thin shadows against the harsh street lights.
          Soon the darkened figures join them, sliding of the side.
          Jason gets tangles in his gear, hanging halfway between heaven and hell.
          Minutes pass like hours until he manages to get free.
     
          The numbing has passed.
          That couldn't be good.
          Sludgy muscles scream resistance in an attempt 
          to find an open door inside to the healing warmth.
          No such luck.

          Now ready for what is to come, 'it' moves out into 
          position alongside the four.
          Shapeless wire frame instantly transforms into a 
          new constellation of stars.
          But there's something wrong.
          These aren't stars.
          It's a ten foot tall "E"
          and it's row on row of twinkling Christmas lights.
          From far above, a cheer wafts down to greet us.

          The awe of the moment passes when our jaws 
          won't move in response.

          A vain bang of the radio.
          A tentative yell to the others.
          Finally a door opens and safety from the elements
          is ours.
          Even the heat of the stairwell lights warms the heart
          as we desperately hope to feel the linoleum-tiled stairs
          under our butts.

          Team Captain gives the sign to move out
          (more of a nudge really).
          Mission complete, the "E" has been hardwired into the building's
          main electrical system.

          Who says danger isn't fun?

          Campus Security picks a bad time to show up.
          Hell, they almost run right into our scout as he 
          exits
          the building.
          His thundering bootslaps coming up the stairs
          and the yells of "RUN!"
          were enough to get everyone impersonating Donovan Bailey.
          Two flights of stairs in 8 seconds and across the 
          building in almost the same.
          Then dead quiet.
          The Pigs hadn't seen our scout, or didn't know where 
          we were.
          ...begin full stealth mode...

          Now seemed like a good time to
          leave.
          Out the door and right into the concealing bushes.
          The heavy wooden beast closed with a thunk and a growl.

          Victory,
          for now.

          Keeping to the snow-laden undergrowth was 
          a brilliant move.
          It was also equally funny.
          Every blink of headlights in our direction sent
          10 bulky bodies diving into a 
          5 foot shrub.

          "Let's head back inside" Lanny says.
          Seemed like a good idea.
          A quick charge though an oddly unlocked door 
          brought us face to face with...
          a directory box.
          Jackpot.
          Too good to be true.
          Some sweet finessing pops the lock open.
          Within moments, the Engineering list has been
          raped
          of all its "E"s (I still have mine).
          The rest of the tiny white letters rearranged to proclaim our greatness.

          It's really time to go.
          Day is beating night into submission.

          Inching through the building towards the skytrain,
          every sign becomes a spoil of war.
          Arms filled with posters, letters, warning signs and office signs
          when we finally reached the station.

          $1.50 into the ticket machine and we can head back
          to our hotel sanctuary.
          After all, we wouldn't want to be caught 
          doing anything 
          illegal.
          Now would we?


                                - WindRider 
