But Stealing Someone's Skateboard Is
Wednesday, 8:00 pm. I skate over to Boaz Hall (a dorm at Southern Methodist University) and nonchalantly leave my board at the entrance to the building. I think to myself, "Hey Jeff, nobody's gonna steal your skate here for two reasons: One, most of the guys here do not know how to skate and two, everyone here at SMU can easily afford one." However, just to be safe, I hide my skateboard in some nearby hedge, so my skate is completely invisible to the passerby. I then proceed to have a great carefree night at some place off campus; in fact, I do not think about my skateboard once the whole night.
Thursday, 7:00 am. I have a rude awakening. Right when I wake up I saunter over to Boaz Hall to retrieve my skate from the place I hid it the night before, only to find that it has vanished. I am bummed to say the least, but I cling to the hope that maybe one of my friends has grabbed it and taken it to his or her dorm room. 1:oo pm. After numerous useless calls to my Boaz friends about my missing skateboard, the first pang of desperation hits me like an arrow through the heart. Though I am never one to accuse, I start thinking that maybe someone really has stolen my skateboard. I start to get a bitter taste in my mouth at the thought of anyone going through with such a heinous act. In spite of my negative thoughts, I re-center myself, take a sip of water to wash that bitter taste away, and decide to trek to both Virginia Hall and McElvaney Hall to check the Lost and Founds. "Perhaps some good Sumaritan has turned in skateboard," I naively hope to myself. After I check both Lost and Founds, my naivety shatters. It turns out there are no good Sumaritans in this world today, just a bunch of criminals. What the hell.
