Finals Week Furball Fiasco

Mount Marty College, nestled in the heart of South Dakota, holds a fascinating piece of its history beneath the surface – an intricate network of tunnels connecting the college buildings, the convent, and the hospital. Originally designed to offer secure and convenient passage for students, faculty, and staff during inclement weather or late hours, these subterranean corridors also embody the strong sense of community and cooperation that has characterized Mount Marty throughout its history. Strolling through these concealed pathways, one can almost picture the footsteps of bygone generations – nuns quietly moving between the convent and classrooms, medical staff swiftly navigating the hospital, and students on their way to class or chapel. Nowadays, these tunnels are treasured as part of the college’s legacy, inspiring curiosity and stories among alumni and visitors alike, serving as a reminder of the rich, interconnected history lying just beneath the campus surface.

When I was a student at MMC during the 1980s, the tunnels had been sealed off for quite some time, yet their presence continued to spark the imagination of both students and faculty, mingling curiosity with mystery in the campus folklore. These concealed pathways became the stuff of whispered legends – hidden arteries running underneath the historic college structures, holding untold stories within their shadowy walls. Though officially barred and locked for safety reasons, we students longed to explore their secrets, dreaming of secret adventures that offered a direct link to the college’s heritage. The magnetic appeal of these underground corridors was intensified by stories of forgotten relics, haunting sounds, and the excitement of venturing into forbidden places, making the tunnels an enthralling part of my collegiate experience.

By my senior year, my interests shifted from exploring hidden tunnels and passageways to concentrating on academic success and future preparation. The curiosity and thrill of uncovering mysterious places transformed into a disciplined commitment to my studies, as I recognized that this pivotal final year was the culmination of my college journey and the gateway to my career ambitions. I devoted myself to applying the same curiosity and perseverance that fueled my earlier explorations toward grasping challenging subjects and honing professional abilities, preparing to move from student life at MMC to the broader world awaiting me.

Amid the heightened tension of finals week, a group of inquisitive freshman girls unexpectedly found the old campus tunnels' door slightly open, inviting them into unfamiliar territory. Driven by a combination of adrenaline and the craving for a study break, they chose to investigate the secret passageways, their footsteps softly resonating through the dim corridors. As they delved further, the temperature dropped and the familiar campus sounds faded, replaced instead by the subtle drip of water and the haunting groan of aging pipes. To their surprise, the tunnels concealed secret alcoves and walls adorned with graffiti, silently telling tales from generations long gone. After exploring several side paths, the primary tunnel ended at a hefty metal door. Giggling nervously, they discovered it was unlocked as well.

The girls bravely turned the knob and found themselves in a hospital storage room bursting with gift store items – rows upon rows of soft blankets, comfortable sleepwear, and an entire row of stuffed animals. The air was thick with a mix of scented candles and lotions attempting to mask the sterile, antiseptic smells of the hospital. With wide eyes and racing hearts, the girls exchanged excited glances, realizing they had stumbled upon a hidden treasure trove. Without thinking about possible consequences, each girl grabbed a stuffed animal before plunging through the door to race back to Corby Hall through the tunnels.

Breathless and wide-eyed, the burglars returned to the dorm and eagerly recounted their tunnel escapade to us upperclassmen, transforming an otherwise stressful evening of studying into an engrossing saga of courage and exploration. Their detailed narrative described a confined corridor bordered by damp cement walls that resonated with occasional water drips, creating a setting that was simultaneously unsettling and stimulating. Traversing the tunnel felt akin to entering another realm, where every shadow hinted at hidden secrets waiting to be uncovered. Their expedition included unforeseen moments, such as encountering a large rat that sent them into a frantic rush for safety, and noticing a subtle, mysterious glow deep inside the passage that stirred both their intrigue and apprehension. As we absorbed their story, the community room seemed to contract, each of us envisioning the hidden maze beneath us, filled with wonder and unease at the unknown connections beneath our daily lives.

When their narrative concluded, I inquired about the origin of the stuffed animals clutched tightly in their arms. After an uneasy pause, the freshmen openly confessed to discovering a concealed storage room within the hospital – a surprising cache holding gift shop merchandise, including the stuffed animals. Their eyes shone with excitement as they described carefully sneaking inside, drawn by the nostalgic comfort those toys embodied. Although their intentions were playful, as they shared the tale, we upperclassmen were struck by a sense of Catholic guilt, recognizing that these stuffed animals were far more than playthings – they represented comfort for patients, often children enduring difficult circumstances. Our initial amusement shifted to a thoughtful awareness of empathy and respect, so we encouraged them to return the stuffed animals before their pilfering came to light.

With heavy sighs, the girls once more made their way down into the dim underground passageways, their footsteps softly resonating against the chilly cement walls as they prepared to return the stolen plush animals. The atmosphere was thick with a blend of anxiety and resolve, each fully aware of the repercussions they faced if discovered. What had once been a realm of excitement now loomed ominously, winding beneath the campus like veins filled with forgotten mysteries. Nevertheless, driven by collective remorse and the desire to set things right, they grasped the cherished stuffed toys tightly, determined to restore happiness to their future owners. In the quiet, their mutual regret blended with the soft sound of dripping water, creating a moment of atonement in the darkness.

After winding through the maze-like tunnels for what seemed an eternity, they eventually arrived at the heavy storage room door. Just before opening it, faint voices drifted from beneath the door, sending a rush of adrenaline through them. The surrounding darkness wrapped around the girls like a dense shroud, compelling them to freeze and press their backs against the cold, damp wall, their hearts thumping loudly in the silence. They all understood that any sudden motion or sound might reveal them, so they held their breath, anxiously tuning-in to fragments of the whispered dialogue. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely as they waited for the voices to fade and the room to fall silent once again. When it was finally quiet, they took the opportunity to slip inside, return the pilfered plush toys, and then retrace their steps through the tunnels to escape.

Emerging once again into the safety of Corby Hall, the girls breathed deeply, a mixture of relief and newfound respect settling over them. Their daring adventure had transformed from a youthful escapade into a meaningful lesson about empathy and responsibility. As they returned to their rooms, the weight of their deeds lingered – not as a burden, but as a reminder that every quiet corner of the campus held stories and lives beyond their own. From that night on, the tunnels became a symbol of connection, courage, and the care they vowed to carry forward in their college journey.