Sneaky Getaways Ft. COVID-19
Written on April 21st , 2022 by {"login"=>"jcbphc21", "email"=>"f20181005@hyderabad.bits-pilani.ac.in", "display_name"=>"Journal Club, BPHC", "first_name"=>"Journal Club", "last_name"=>"BPHC"}Years of watching Mission Impossible movies ought to have made this easier. It didn’t. Everyone who’d done it before made it look easy, so I assumed it’d be a cakewalk. I closed my eyes and made a mental checklist of the things I had to do to pull this off.
- Maintain an unassuming demeanor before the suspecting warden and the prying eyes of his unreasonably nosy assistant.
- Be convincing enough for him to actually believe you have a dentist’s appointment. Blame it on the mess food, whatever.
- Think on my feet if they ask me to make do with the dentist at MedC. What would I say, eye check up? But then we have an ophthalmologist too, ugh. A wedding it had to be.
- Look inconspicuous while filling the outstation form. DO NOT let your hands tremble.
- Fake a negative RT PCR report for the short while I’d be out of campus. My friend knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew another guy that could get the job done.
I was a bundle of nerves imagining the ordeal I’d have to go through. I gulped down a bottle of Sting to take the edge off the nerves. That didn’t help either. A day of quality time with my friends in Hyderabad was worth all this trouble though. They really pinned their hopes on me being there for the entirety of their visit here. They did a recon and said they’d wait in the car at the gate to pick me up at 10 am sharp. Worst case scenario, failing to get the outstation pass, I’d just tell the guard I was gonna meet them in the car and calmly drive off into the city. Finding a way to go around the stringent measures taken by the administration in light of the covid pandemic was a herculean task. I knew people who managed to get out and I was stupid enough to tell them I was gonna sneak out of campus, and now they wanted me to smuggle in booze for them. I bursted out listing a 100 possible ways I could possibly get caught. I had no intention of yielding to their demands, but they were offering valuable information on how to pull off the escape. My outburst was met with casual suggestions on how to bootleg stuff into the hostels. So began the flurry of peddling drugs and booze to the esteemed educational establishment. My dipsomaniac friends told me to pack tiny Johnnie Walker bottles in jars of jantikalu (South Indian savories), fill McDowells in empty dettol bottles and suggested pirating soft drugs in ways you couldn't imagine, which I obviously couldn't condone. Making promises to almost everyone that wanted stuff from the other side, I returned to my room to get a good night’s sleep with a long day ahead. I woke up with a faint weakness and subtle body aches. Dismissing it, I walked to the washroom to brush my teeth and weirdly enough, realized I couldn't smell my toothpaste. Before I knew it I hit the ground and was on a stretcher transiting through the corridors of MedC and all my plans went for a toss. The only drug I could enjoy the company of, was a little white tablet called Dolo 650.