I’ll never know what inner achiever prompted me to take a story
assignment
at 6 p.m. on a Monday night.
Monday. First day of school is over. Time to go home, make dinner, put
off
homework, a game of pool and a beer then bed.
Nope.
In the Emerald, the news editors are the first line of defense. So
myself
and the ever-stylish Brad get to field all those late-breaking stories,
for
better or worse. Brad was tired. I was stupid, and volunteered for a
breaking-news piece about the Oregon Student Association and the
possible
recall of its chairwoman.
By 10 p.m. Monday night, it’s clear the story won’t come together. Time
to
go home, drive real fast in my semi-new car then collapse into bed.
Next morning: interview for the OSA story. I finish up, and manage to
squeeze my interviews in the gaps left by my four hours of classes.
Wednesday. My story comes out. Front page, Emerald. I am happy. The
people
mentioned in the article are not.
Thursday. I think I really pissed some people off. Why, oh why did I
volunteer for this story?
Friday. It’s official, I am now hated by at least a few people I just
wrote about. Even worse, it’s my fault. I guilt trip myself into being
the
guy who raises his hand and volunteers to cover their board meeting on
Saturday. In SOUTHERN OREGON. At NINE IN THE MORNING.
Saturday. 9:35 a.m. I’m driving around Ashland. Where did Southern go?
It
has to be there somewhere. In the seat next to me, my roadtrip buddy
nurses
a hangover. Finally, after a few more U-turns, I find the meeting spot.
I
go inside — my friend stays outside and watches his stomach climb out
of
his throat, thanks to my driving.
3 p.m. Almost six hours of this meeting, and the OSA just started the
point of the meeting where they talk about what I came here for. My
laptop
is ready.
4:02 p.m. Controversy. These people hate each other as well as me. I
have
a killer story.
4:30 p.m. Damn! They’re getting tired of fighting!
4:45 p.m. Double damn! They’re making up! My front page story just
turned
into a whole lot of nothing. No recall, no anything. I mean this is a
good
thing; there’s not a rift in the OSA anymore. But what am I supposed to
do
tell my editor?
11:02 p.m. I’m back in the Emerald. I’ve written the story. It’s
surprisingly good – I don’t know what came over me, but it certainly
took
its sweet time in getting there.
This is the life cycle of a dumb decision. In the week, I’ve written a
handful of stories and spent ~ $30 on EMU food. I’ve missed one quiz,
failed to turn in two homework assignments and completely neglected
most
other areas of my life. But my name’s found its way on countless copies
of
newsprint. And for some reason, people are no longer mad at me. And
I’ve
learned something: Brad gets the next late-breaking story.