improv everywhere (even here)

Emilia was already at her desk when I arrived, studying away. "Ciao," she said, not even bothering to look up from her grammar, "Come stai?"

I let my bag drop to the floor with a loud thud. "Bravissima!" I cried. She turned around to take in the unexpected enthusiasm, eyebrows raised. "È primavera fuori," I added, giving all credit to the weather for my joy.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The rest of campus seemed to agree---it looked like every student had turned out to celebrate Spring. The grassy quads were full of friends studying, girls hitching their pants above their knees to catch the sun. Students walked leisurely in between classes, taking their time to remember what nature's warmth feels like. And Brigham Square was positively humming with noon-time activity---the perfect cover-up.

Sam and Bekah met me on the Bookstore steps just as the ROTC began their drill routine, the metal along their guns glinting in the April sun. I handed Bekah my bag of trail mix. "Three minutes?" she asked. I nodded.

A red-haired boy sidled up next to me, looking out at the crowd. "Is there something going on?" he asked. I shook my head. "Not that I know of---just lunchtime, I guess." He surveyed the square again, eyes wide. "It just seems like a lot of people." I hummed ambiguously, and he wandered away. Sam grinned. "Cool." Bekah checked her watch and motioned toward the library. "Should we get going?"

Just as we set off the trumpet played and the world froze over.

My arm was extended, one finger pointing up toward the art building, and I rocked on one heel to the other. Beside me, Bekah had laced her hands up through the straps of her backpack and her mouth stayed open in the beginnings of a sentence. Sam had bent over to pick up an errant flyer and posed there still, one finger keeping the paper to the concrete.

In front of me, the entire square had fallen silent, the masses immobilized at the first few notes of the university fight song. One girl had frozen while feeding her boyfriend a goldfish cracker; a boy across the quad was balancing on one foot while reaching forward to grab a friend. Only the ROTC marched on.

One minute later, the designated leader signaled the end and we all walked on as if nothing had happened.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The experience was almost . . . beautiful? Over a thousand people had showed up. Beside the stunning sight of a university stilled in the midst of finals, the silence was something else. In one second, the clamor of a thousand different conversations ceased. Those poor souls left out of the secret fell silent, too, unnerved at the sudden stop of every thing around them. They wandered through the statued maze looking worried, some even averting their eyes. Some pretended not to notice at all, striding purposefully to their destination without slowing.

Those sort of people absolutely amaze me.

Afterward, Sam was practically skipping. "Was that not the best thing you've ever done? Ever?" he waved his arms for added emphasis. "I mean, that was social networking in all its glory." Bekah couldn't stop laughing. "How do we not do this all the time?!" she shouted. I agreed. "So what's next, then?" Sam considered this for a minute, studying the buildings around us. "The Administration. Or the Newspaper. Storm their offices, but in silence. Just stand and stare." He nodded. "Yes. Send the word."