Your life is safe. It exists, perhaps, within a half dozen blocks, your three very favorite dining halls, and your very special carrel hidden in the corner of Bass. So maybe, once, you carved your initials on the underside of the desk. You riveting, exhilarating badass, you.
Your life is boring. But fear not, oh stagnant one, a chilling breeze is blowing, and it’s coming from your slightly parted window. Surrender to its coaxing breath. That porthole wants you to open it. It wants you to climb.
I would like you to meet my friend Peril. She’s a well-endowed, short skirt long jacket kind of lady, and that same breeze that’s putzing with your lungs is toying with the hem of her dress. I understand that she seems to be quite the vixen, but don’t be intimidated. She doesn’t want you to die. The intricacies of Peril reside in her desire to feel the rush of the unknown, the hazardous, the creeping potential of downfall, but she will tactfully abort a mission when she knows that tangible danger awaits. She is the impending expectation of doom, not the actualization of catastrophe. She walks a narrow line, and I hear she’s really into you.
So pick a card. Any card. But if you’re hoping to get lucky, I suggest the orange ones. She’s a bit of a pyromaniac, and that particular color palate will only enhance your chances. Let’s begin.
Advance Token to Nearest Utility. It’s Sex Week At Yale, people. People At Yale should be Having Sex this Week. So if you’re feeling frisky, be aware the Peril loves utilities. Facility utilities. And if she asks that you excuse her and slinks her way to the little girls’ room, you follow her there.
Advance to Go. If you’ve followed your Chance card instruction so far, that restroom should have been nice and occupied. But if suddenly you feel nature calling and have the need to relieve yourself, resist the urge to kill two birds with one stone, and defy societal expectations of toilet use. You march right outside and find a lovely little alley or bush to inhabit. And you claim your territory. You drop trou. What? That’s perilous.
You are Assessed for Street Repairs. There is a freshman in L-Dub with a whip. A big one. Make use of this information.
Advance Token to the Nearest Railroad. That felt good, right? You’re feeling in control, rebellious, James Dean reincarnated: you are the one turning the earth beneath your feet. Now I want you to realize how very little you have just accomplished. And I want you to go the train station. And I want you to leave. Because there is a world beyond the static, sexually frustrated, urine-ridden streets of New Haven.
Go Directly to Jail. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200. The clink is what’s up. It’s happening in jail. Tattoo your right buttock with a big, flaming “Y.” Get tasered. Thrice. Teach your cell-mates to sing “House of the Rising Sun?”
Get Out of Jail Free. Relish your first few breaths free of the slammer. Good luck. And if you have any other exciting adventures, let me know.