Cuse Kids love playing Major Tom by jumping up and down in the Dome columns. It makes a really clutch boingy-boingy-boingy-astronaut noise. Once, as I jumped up and down in-between two noble pillars of concrete, I began to float in the most peculiar way. Perhaps it was the artificial high of Astroturf, perhaps it was the spacepants, but for a moment there, as I dare left the capsule, Syracuse became a new place. A place where palm trees were pregnant with coconuts. A place where Pacific-Cooler Capri-Sun flowed from drinking fountains like the hair of a Grecian goddess. A place with an ever-repeating “This is What Dreams are Made Of” Hillary Duff soundtrack.
It was like I was sitting in a tin can, far above the world. Planet earth was blue. And then it was over.
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