So, if you haven't heard(or saw), our little neck of the woods was featured in Rokerthon, the Today Show's crazy record-breaking bonanza. This year, the goal was to help college campuses break world records, ultimately featuring 5 school--and Loyola was one of them.

We officially learned about this event 2 weeks before it happened in an email, sent out by President Brian Linnane. I was excited, hurriedly messaging my parents about the opportunity. I considered signing up to join the 377+ crowd of crab-walkers we would need to assemble for the record(who chose crab-walking anyway?)I did them all the time during hip-hop lesson in high school-- but never for two minutes straight. By the time I finished vacillating over it, the sign-ups had closed. The day before, I saw signs for it everywhere: the rotating news screens in the student center, e-mails, even a "be there by 6 if you want to watch!" Yeah right. I had to get up at 6:30 that morning for registration. I'd have to be up by 5:30 to stand a chance of getting there by then, and sleep-depriving myself too much is just begging for a mental breakdown.

I got up the next morning at 6:30, limped out of bed as fast as I could, and made my way up to the quad by 7:15. What I saw was madness. The entire quad was cordoned off, and "Who Let the Dogs Out" was blaring from some speaker. I could see cheerleaders dancing amidst the mass of people behind the barrier. The crowd leaning on the barriers was less oppressive than I imagined. I managed to find a spot up by the Humanities building. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a better view, as the Study was on the other side of the barriers, and there were security guards keeping me from getting to the Honors Lounge. So I stood behind the banister with the rest of the crowd, most with giant Al Roker cut-out masks and Today show foam fingers. The perks of actually coming up to muster. Poor things: they had been standing there an hour.

I guess I was no better: I stood there about an hour myself. Initially playing Pokemon Go to pass the time(I hope somebody else enjoyed the lure I dropped on the McManus PokeStop), I realized that I would miss the camera if it ever panned over here. So then I effectively live-blogged my parents whatever was happening, in between propping myself on the bottom rim of the barriers to get better pictures. Somebody with an Al Roker mask got up to the roof of McManus, and was filming everything. I managed to get a couple of pictures of him.

We also saw real Al Roker come out of the humanities building. The weirdest thing: I didn't even think it was him. He was wearing a green Loyola sweatshirt and looked...well, like a normal person. I barely knew it was him until he announced the rules for the crab-walk, and even then the...stage manager or someone was about as loud and dynamic. I don't even watch the Today Show that often. I don't know why I would care so much about a TV person. I guess part of me doesn't think TV people are real. Well, I was within...500 feet of one. Is that proof enough?

Whenever they were filming a segment or spot, the horde of crabwalkers and cheerleaders and entertainment would start yelling. I would yell too, but quietly. I occasionally flailed my arms around whenever I feel the high-rise camera was pointing at me. When someone with a camera ran down the side of the quad, I ran after them, jumping and yelling in hopes of being seen, returning disappointed to discover I had lost my spot. It's not even one of my life goals to be on television. Imagining that someone will mention me in a way broadcast to millions of people makes me feel so, so afraid. What makes being seen here, now, different?

Then came the crab-walk. At the prompting of a giant monitor they had installed, 500 Loyola students began moseying forward and back, left and right on all fours throughout the entire length of the quad. Everyone was yelling and singing as the crowd oscillated back and forth...I barely knew what I was looking at.

After it was over, I bailed. I was out there over an hour, watching. Waiting. It wasn't until I was in the Starbucks lobby, waiting for my latte and for sensation to return to my hands, that I even discovered we actually broke the record. I congratulate the 494 people who beat the record, with their complementary t-shirts, "I broke a world record" stickers, and mild hand injuries. I congratulate them for their courage, not only to sign up promptly, but to wake up markedly before call at 5:15, and then go on with their days. That is truly admirable.

So, that was the Rokerthon. It came, it went, and all I have to remember is a chat history, some pictures, and, if I'm lucky, a couple of frames on my parent's DVR. I have mild regrets.