They were poised across the balcony, connected by a series of belts and tape, tied together, using all their dexterity to hit the helicopter stuck on the chandelier. One was standing on a railing, and the other was nearly fully extended. A jiggle and a swing, and success, as the helicopter fell to the waiting hands of the guy waiting below. All this after a game of badminton, some Ramen, and copious amounts of How I Met Your Mother, a surprisingly brilliant show that I realize I should watch more often. And this is an average day during Dead Week.
But then again, when do I ever watch TV? At the risk of sounding like a pretentious academic (even though I kind of am one), I don't really watch TV. This is not, however, because I find it distasteful-- I find 24 as kickass as the next person-- but because I don't have the time. And yet now, when we, the band at large, have nothing else to do, much TV is watched and caught up on.
Dead Week is a beautiful thing.
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