After hitting a personal low in Olin Library (crying in the stacks for 3 straight hours), I decided to treat myself to some delicious, refreshing, and free water from the lovely little fountain in the basement.
I figured through sheer willpower alone, I could evade the inevitable disease that was indicated by the blaring red water filter sign before me. Little did I know, my natural defenses didn’t stand a chance against the hazardous waste brewing in the depths of Olin. Truth be told, I should have sucked it up and spent $3 at the Amit Bhatia Libe Cafe.
I first started to become concerned upon viewing the water, which was yellow, fizzing, and burning hot. I figured it was just the lighting that was skewing my perception of the water, and finished my entire Hydro Flask. The second red flag was the fact that the water tasted like freshly scooped dirt, but this too was a warning sign I ignored.
That night, when I turned off the lights to go to sleep, I noticed a most peculiar light emanating from underneath my sheets. Lo and behold, it was I. My skin was shining, dazzling, and blinding. It was at that moment that my worst fears were confirmed: the Olin slop had transformed me into some sort of bioluminescent creature.
Never in my life have I been told that I “light up the room” more frequently now that I glow in the dark, thanks to the Olin Library “water.”
