As seen in The Collegian | Volume 5, Issue XI -- Fall 2006  

ONE YEAR LATER: Katrina Loots Campus
Latest semester trends prove the campus of Mississippi College to be not so much a "bubble" (as the popular metaphor runs) but more of a microcosm that eerily imitates the surrounding real society.

Katrina (above), otherwise known as "Hampstead's Bane" hits campus hard in 2005.

 -- In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, a new generation of Mississippi College students is learning to count the blessings that God has bestowed. The category 4 storm, or “Hampstead’s Bane” as it has come to be known on campus, had a life-altering effect on numerous residents who were, due to loss of power, forced to endure as many as three days without cable television and video game systems.

“Why would God allow this to happen?” asked Travis Rickshaw, a Christian Studies major from Meridian. “What did we do to deserve this abominable torture? We have been striving to bring God glory all semester through worship services, worship nights, worship training, worship breakfasts, and our new car wash outreach, ‘worship-wash.’” Rickshaw continued, “We are truly about God’s work. Why have you forsaken us?”

While many students, like Rickshaw, are vowing to renew their decisions to “let go and let God,” others are still shell shocked at their temporary loss of modern luxuries. Kelly Wimbledon, an Elementary Education major from Memphis, Tenn., recounts the terror she experienced as a Mary-Nelson resident. “First, I noticed that my Shane Bernard CD stopped playing. Then, the temperature in the dorm started rising from its normal setting of 54 degrees, and I felt like I was going to faint!” Wimbledon explained. “But the worst part happened when...when...” Through tears and gasps for air, she finally admitted that she was forced to spend 48 hours without a hairdryer. “I can’t believe this happened on, like, the same week that I was, like, supposed to go shopping for a formal dress!” she asserted.

Unfortunately, the effects of “Hampstead’s Bane” did not end with its passing out of the greater Clinton area. As the dust cleared and wide-eyed residents emerged from their protective, Lysol-ed dormitory structures with a new realization of the ephemeral quality of material things, bee lines were made for the once-neglected confines of the B.C. Rogers cafeteria. Unable to handle the multitudes who normally pass up “the caf” in favor of spending $15 to get a meal at an off-campus dining establishment, Sodexho did its best to meet each student’s needs.

Some students reported waiting in line for nearly five hours just to fill up their small tray with daily rations. Yet, other resourceful students filled up 10-gallon barrels with entrees from the Taste of Today line in order to have sufficient means of sustenance back at the dorm should another act of God strike the campus. When a fight broke out between two students over the last piece of chocolate cake, campus security was called into action to regulate the food lines. Coincidentally, the salad bar, which is normally the least-frequented portion of the cafeteria’s buffet arrangement, was immediately converted into a Krispy Kreme donut assembly line, complete with “hot light.”

Skip Ferguson, a cafeteria food-hoarder from Chunky, argued that his decision to remove 25 gallons of food from the cafeteria for his own benefit when there were people starving in greater-affected regions of the state was not an extreme act. “Look, I’m using wise judgment to prepare for the future. I’m not selfish or anything because I’m paying for this food fair and square, even in the face of escalating point prices.” reasoned Ferguson. “Certainly I care about those less fortunate than myself, but in these times of uncertainty, you have to be prepared to do what’s best to keep yourself safe.”

With that, Ferguson wheeled his loot out of B.C. Rogers on a dolly and headed down to New Men’s to endure the hardships of the storm clean-up by watching The Lord of the Rings in Dolby surround sound and preparing for the prayer vigil that was to held in Swor Auditorium later that evening. 
-- E.Z. Cheese




Disclaimer: The Whittington Weekly is an unofficial student page, in no way related to the official Mississippi College home page. The stories contained within this site are meant for humor and satire purposes only and attempt to bring to the surface some of the lighter aspects of campus life. The writers/students have the utmost respect for the  faculty and staff and appreciate all of their hard work to better our education. Remember, parody is the highest form of flattery. Any coincidental resemblance to the truth is predominantly fleeting.

Comments? E-mail us. © Copyright 2006