2008 Woodie Awards
When Pancakes Call
Brian Turner
Issue date: 4/3/06 Section: Web Content
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As some of you may know, this past Saturday (well, Sunday morning), March 25, there was a selling of pancakes in the Hamlin Powers seminar room. I, having a great love of pancakes, walked down the hall and down the stairs to the room where they were being sold, paid the meager fee, and proceeded to stuff my mouth with pancakes until they felt a need to come back out. If you were wondering, that was about eight pancakes. I am a small guy, bugger off.
Anyway, considerably fewer people came to this pancakathon than the Hamlin Powers dorm council anticipated, and as a result, mounds of flapjacks remained uneaten. As the 2:00 a.m. closing time drew near, those people in charge of this pancakaganza began doing whatever they could think of to get those pancakes out of there, short of tossing them in the dumpster. So, where did all of these pancakes go? I am really not sure, and to this day, I do not really care to know. All I cared about was a single pan (big aluminum pan, with about 30 to 40 pancakes). My pan of pancakes.
See, in my infinite 2:00 a.m. wisdom, I decided that, to get rid of some of these pancakes, I would walk through the town of Potsdam and give them to random people. At this time I would like to add that I was (and am) completely sober. Now, if some stranger walked up to me, wearing what I was wearing (I will get to that in a minute), offering me free pancakes, I would, at the very least, politely turn them down. Obviously though, people do not share this belief of mine, for it was not 20 minutes before I returned to the school. Pancakeless.
To start, there was some young man to whom I had extended an invitation to join me. He nicely turned it down despite my persistence, saying that he had tried to give food out to people before and had never had any luck. I asked some of the things he tried to give out, and upon hearing them, it was obvious that he was not giving away stuff that would move like hotcakes. But I was; heck, hotcakes was what I was giving away. So, I put on my evening clothes (it was a beautiful night), a large, dirty looking duster (horseback riding coat) and a fedora (that hat Freddy Krueger wore). As I said, I certainly would not have taken pancakes from me.
Anyway, considerably fewer people came to this pancakathon than the Hamlin Powers dorm council anticipated, and as a result, mounds of flapjacks remained uneaten. As the 2:00 a.m. closing time drew near, those people in charge of this pancakaganza began doing whatever they could think of to get those pancakes out of there, short of tossing them in the dumpster. So, where did all of these pancakes go? I am really not sure, and to this day, I do not really care to know. All I cared about was a single pan (big aluminum pan, with about 30 to 40 pancakes). My pan of pancakes.
See, in my infinite 2:00 a.m. wisdom, I decided that, to get rid of some of these pancakes, I would walk through the town of Potsdam and give them to random people. At this time I would like to add that I was (and am) completely sober. Now, if some stranger walked up to me, wearing what I was wearing (I will get to that in a minute), offering me free pancakes, I would, at the very least, politely turn them down. Obviously though, people do not share this belief of mine, for it was not 20 minutes before I returned to the school. Pancakeless.
To start, there was some young man to whom I had extended an invitation to join me. He nicely turned it down despite my persistence, saying that he had tried to give food out to people before and had never had any luck. I asked some of the things he tried to give out, and upon hearing them, it was obvious that he was not giving away stuff that would move like hotcakes. But I was; heck, hotcakes was what I was giving away. So, I put on my evening clothes (it was a beautiful night), a large, dirty looking duster (horseback riding coat) and a fedora (that hat Freddy Krueger wore). As I said, I certainly would not have taken pancakes from me.