Midnight at UVA, and I am dressed as a Viking. I am wearing my two pronged helmet, full black beard, chest plate, sword, high shorts, and fur bracelets. I am carrying a boombox over my head. I open the door and walk into the biggest library at UVA: Clemons first floor. Clemons first floor is a silent work floor. If you want to talk, you should be on a different floor. I start walking silently through the silent floor. I don’t make a sound as I sneak past tables and make my way to the middle of the space where the cubicles are. I stop and pause, turn around and wait some more. By now, people are staring. Now, I hit the play button on stereo. Out of the speakers turned to full volume comes the soft beginning to one of the greatest songs of the 1990’s.
“dooocoodoo dooocoodoo dooocoodoo dooocoodoo”
When the big drums kick in, the doors to the back of the library burst open. Twenty vikings and viking women come pouring through the doors, yelling at full blast and waving their weapons in the air. They are not the peaceful sort of vikings. As one of them jumps on top of a table and kicks a girl’s aquafina bottle across the room, many begin to realize that these are angry vikings. We flip over chairs, turn over trash cans, rustle peoples’ books, and tear through the silent library, pillaging as we go. All the while I simply stand put, holding Du Hast over my head at full blast.
Yes: This was Viking Pillage night. And among the eleven other houses we stormed, and all the tables we flipped, among all of the wrapped candies I shoved in my mouth and the random cups of beverages I poured down my beard, among the tiki torches we stole and the sidewalk strangers we accosted, this could have been the best Halloween ever.