Panic struck a normally peaceful first-year dorm early Tuesday morning when students awoke to find their Internet service disconnected. Roommates who hadn’t spoken in weeks turned to each other in horror, exchanging tearful embraces and words of consolation. “Make it all OK again. Tell me this is all just a bad dream,” a distraught student begged.
As the morning continued the desperation mounted, and students who hadn’t left their rooms in weeks ventured outside. “I don’t know what to do?I don’t know anyone’s phone number, only their screen names,” said one crying girl outside of Village C West, referring to America Online’s popular Instant Messenger service.
Other students ran around campus searching for “friends.”
“ALI47, where are you?” cried a hysterical student, unaccustomed to the light of day.
Students were forced to reflect on their lives. “Without my profile, who am I?” moaned a philosophy major.
“I find that offline, my relationships are meaningless and based on superficial characteristics,” said a student, longing for the intimacy of a flashing screen.
After five minutes of frantic attempts to connect to AOL, one first-year promptly yanked the cover off her computer and then reconnected all the wires in vain. Only when she realized the entire dorm was lacking service did she retreat to her bed and curl into the fetal position.
A curious phenomenon swept the campus at about 4 p.m. when students abandoned the traditional “What’s up” greeting in favor of the missing IM noises.
“Brrrlllddppp?” exclaimed one student. Another promptly replied “Blllrrooppp.”
The situation was no better in Lauinger Library, where students were heard to reply, “AutoResponse: studying for econ!!” when asked what they were doing.
Students were not the only ones affected by the tragic loss. Professors normally dependent on Blackboard 5 were forced to impart information to their students in person.
“I started sweating and broke out in hives. I thought the horrible days of face-to-face communication were permanently behind us,” said a terrified professor.
One student swears he saw a UIS employee trip over a wire and simply walk away. “All the computers blinked off and then the chaos began!” he said. Another pointed to the cranes looming over campus and simply said ominously, “The hole did it … “
At dusk, students gathered for a candlelight vigil in front of Dahlgren Chapel, pleading for the return of IM.
As night fell and the wind picked up, the harsh reality of life at Georgetown without the Internet set in. An eerie calm blanketed the campus as students started to work with no Internet to distract them?no one to talk to, no games to play, no www.humanforsale.com to check.
Vice President of Student Affairs Juan Gonzalez denied the lack of Internet service. “Students can still access their GUMail,” he said. I just don’t see a need for a response to this situation right now.”
Yard supporters blamed GUSA for the loss, claiming that it would prevent students from voting for the Yard referendum online.
Student Health Services began setting up support groups for those having trouble dealing with the unexpected loss of communication. Unfortunately, some students had lost the ability to speak after months of endless typing. One girl attempting to convey her emotions could only utter, “LOL, BRB, TTYL … J/K!” much to the confusion of her counselor.
Just as the University community was preparing to face another bleak day without the Internet, service was reconnected.
Unaware students were forced to run to avoid the stampeding crowds storming the ‘net.
Students were at long last reconnected with friends, family, important international news and, of course, IM loved ones.
Kathryn King and Bailey Somers are first-year students in the School of Foreign Service. They’re van certified. Are you?
