Don't ask why throwing a large metal object off the roof seemed fun. I'm 19 and past it now.

Sunday night, Jimmy came in while I was studying in my room. "Nick wants to throw the cart off the roof. You have to come if you want to see it. We're doing it now." Destructively tempted by the five floor drop, I'd been playfully arguing it should go over the edge for weeks. But why at ten at night. We should wait till three in the morning. And why when Nick wanted the cart to fly was it suddenly ok. Why was it taken as a reasonable suggestion to act on from some one else but not me, I asked. Because you're you, Jimmy said, hurry up or miss it. I turned to grab my glasses, then went back for my keys causing impatience. "C'mon."

Climbing the stairs to the roof, continuing to complain about unfairness of Nick's craziness being followed but not mine, I reached the door and openned it. Ivan jumped out of the shadows by the cart, a crowd clustered around a spiral of yellow light on the far end, "surprise" shouted from all directions. It took a second to take it all in. A surprise party on the roof. It was transformed. An extension cord running down to Caroline's room powered christmas lights. The roof, a birthday cake, and I glowed. The brilliant masterminds behind the successful surprise were my sweetest suitemates, Katie and Erin. They invited everyone, lit up the roof, and kept me in the dark until the right moment when I blew out the candles before they burned down to the icing, ate cake, loved friends and left the stolen shopping cart up on the roof.