I just saw a man spray cayenne hot sauce on his penis, because someone told him that he should. I don't know who cried more.
Welcome to the phenomenon that is ROC wars. ROC is the Rollins Outdoor Club, a group that lives on-campus in close proximity to Pinehurst, which is where I practically live. To explain, Pinehurst and ROC are both student organizations. They control their own membership, distribution of funds, and hold sovereign power over the declaration of war against one another.
I'm not joking.
For the last two weeks, ROC wars have been in full swing. The rules are as follows: no theft of personal property, no bodily harm, and no permanent and debilitating damage of organization property. Since this began, Pinehurst has stolen ROC's 3'x4' planner board, their archway sign, their spiritually insignificant but very cool porcealin Buddha, and their shower curtains. They have placed an entire box of detergent in one of ROC's washing machines and then turned it on. They have baked laxative-heavy brownies and cupcakes and delivered them covertly to ROC.
I'm still not joking.
The shower curtains are kind of a big deal because both organizations use co-ed public bathrooms. With no shower curtains, either modesty or hygeine are forfeit. The brownies, sadly, were consumed by a drunk member of Pinehurst, who spilled the beans, about their nature and... A few nights ago, ROC retailiated, and I was lucky (ahem) enough to be on site. Alex, the crazy but lovable ROC wars advocate, was returning from a raid, one which apparently pushed ROC too far. Fifteen minutes later, we found the cottage surrounded by two dozen ROCkers wielding vinegar-loaded super soakers and boasting a host of projectiles, including paintballs, firecrackers, water balloons, and wet condoms. Yum.
I must take a moment to explain the nature of the Pinehurst Cottage, or P-Hut. The front door has a magnetic key-card scanner on the outside as well as a thermal proximity senser on the inside, both of which trigger the unlock mechanism for both the front and side entrance. The side entrance has only the card slot, but opening either door causes the locks on both of them to trigger. The P-Hutters felt secure in their position until it was discovered that one of the ROC members somehow had obtained card access. It was messy. They rushed the first-floor hallway and we barely mustered a sufficient defense. In the meantime, the front door had triggered as a result of the side door access, and the defenders in the forward sectors continued to trigger the sensor, preventing us defending the secondary entrance from locking the door. Eventually, they were distracted enough that we were able to move a team outside. Our first attempts to cut the power to the door locks failed, and we eventually settled for jamming the card scanner with electrical tape and barricading the first floor door. We attempted a counter-assault, but in the midst of planning, enough of them returned to foil our attempts and cause the attack team to waste their ammunition. We retreated inside again and tried to hold them off with bathroom-rigged garden hoses. It was 3AM, seven hours into the siege, before I was able to leave with dryness guaranteed. I can still smell vinegar.
This coming weekend is bound to be worse. We have designs of stealing their toilet seats and the remaining curtains, along with their Kayak. We acquired a set of radios for scouting and communications. With luck, we will have some serious water guns by then, and will have developed tactical experience above that used in the prior engagements.
I should find this childish, but it's the most fun I've had in weeks. Can you tell?
