Five books about Kosovo, a bowl of pasta and a tall boy. For no real reason at all, I’m pulling an all-nighter to finish my Kosovo essay. Besides boring me to tears, the stack of books pictured above is two days overdue from the library. I’m sure it’ll be some monumental fine. With this exchange rate, It always is. I submit to the outrageous conditions on their library card and they hand me these ludicrous fines. Unacceptable. In any event, I will write about Kosovo.

It’s about 1:46 AM GMT here, which puts us at just 28 minutes since the fire alarm went off. Proper protocol mandates that we all assemble like sheep in front of our building while we (theoretically) watch it burn down.

My neighbor Simon came over and said, “I can’t be bothered to go outside. I just fell asleep!” I told him we should go, that it would be adventurous. And adventurous it was.

There was the usual accusations of who triggered the alarm. In all actuality, it’s not that hard to do. Steam from the shower can set the room detectors off. I’ve set it off by air-freshening the begeezus out of my room, because of the aforementioned Simon’s stench after a casual game of frisbee. Sure, it may have been dramatic, but nothing else can make my room smell so garden fresh.

This early in the morning, you see people as they really are. That girl from my English class actually has a face that isn’t marinated in skin-toned foundation. People were in robes, pajamas. Lex from upstairs came down in his boxers. If we had some booze, it could have been a themed party. It was nice seeing everyone from our building. It’s nice to see just how faux emergencies can bring people together.