Electrifying times
By: Robert Hendler
Issue date: 4/24/08 Section: Features
When senior Caitlin Fergus was asked about her favorite memory at Lake Forest College, she said "Performance Art class with Eli Robb."
A number of old computers were about to be thrown out by the science department and Robb collected them for a performance art piece. The computers were hung by harnesses from the trees behind McCormick Auditorium and beaten with bats like piñatas.
"Keyboard keys were everywhere," said Fergus. "And the best part was that the science teachers all walked by giving the class looks as if we were beating their children."
Other seniors like Matt Nelson recall less-academic misadventures brought upon by boredom.
One winter afternoon his sophomore year, Nelson and his roommate, Will Osborne, were sitting in their quad when Osborne looked over at Nelson, a physics major and notorious electronics tinkerer who had made his own air conditioner out of a refrigerator cooling coil and fan, and said, "Hey Matt, make a rail gun." A rail gun is a theoretical device that uses electromagnets to accelerate a piece of metal to very high speeds.
Hearing this, Nelson went to the back room and came out with a large battery; it was a spare MRI battery that his father had picked up from Ottawa hospital.
Taking two wire hangers and straightening them out, he placed them on a cardboard 12-pack soda box.
"It was the only thing on hand that was not conductive" said Nelson. Using an old extension cord he pulled the wires out and hooked up the hangers to the battery. The object he chose to use as ammo was an aluminum soft drink can that had the paint filed off with a nail file. "I filed it off to increase the conductivity between the hangers and the can," explained Nelson.
After gathering his makeshift device together and running 12 volts through the hangers the can moved along rail on its own. After a few demonstrations, someone asked, "Do I smell burning?" The current through the hangers caused the cardboard box to smolder. Matt smiled innocently and replied, "Nooo," while quickly disassembling the device. It was never attempted again.
Erin Doughty recalls some of her friends' romantic misadventures, from when she had an early morning World Politics class.
She arrived at her class on time, but a friend of hers arrived slightly late. She noticed he was sporting a large hickey on his neck.
She quietly passed him a note, asking him if he wanted to use her make-up compact to cover it up. He was unsure what she was talking about until later that evening when finally he got to a mirror. He instant messaged her later, "Sweet Zombie Jesus, it is huge." Apparently he had been oblivious to it the whole day.
They discussed solutions for getting rid of it and after discounting make-up, Doughty suggested that he could rub poison ivy on his neck, then scratch enough to cover it up, to which her friend responded, "that's like setting off a bomb to clean a room." Doughty also suggested that he could wear an eye patch on the other side to balance it out.
A number of old computers were about to be thrown out by the science department and Robb collected them for a performance art piece. The computers were hung by harnesses from the trees behind McCormick Auditorium and beaten with bats like piñatas.
"Keyboard keys were everywhere," said Fergus. "And the best part was that the science teachers all walked by giving the class looks as if we were beating their children."
Other seniors like Matt Nelson recall less-academic misadventures brought upon by boredom.
One winter afternoon his sophomore year, Nelson and his roommate, Will Osborne, were sitting in their quad when Osborne looked over at Nelson, a physics major and notorious electronics tinkerer who had made his own air conditioner out of a refrigerator cooling coil and fan, and said, "Hey Matt, make a rail gun." A rail gun is a theoretical device that uses electromagnets to accelerate a piece of metal to very high speeds.
Hearing this, Nelson went to the back room and came out with a large battery; it was a spare MRI battery that his father had picked up from Ottawa hospital.
Taking two wire hangers and straightening them out, he placed them on a cardboard 12-pack soda box.
"It was the only thing on hand that was not conductive" said Nelson. Using an old extension cord he pulled the wires out and hooked up the hangers to the battery. The object he chose to use as ammo was an aluminum soft drink can that had the paint filed off with a nail file. "I filed it off to increase the conductivity between the hangers and the can," explained Nelson.
After gathering his makeshift device together and running 12 volts through the hangers the can moved along rail on its own. After a few demonstrations, someone asked, "Do I smell burning?" The current through the hangers caused the cardboard box to smolder. Matt smiled innocently and replied, "Nooo," while quickly disassembling the device. It was never attempted again.
Erin Doughty recalls some of her friends' romantic misadventures, from when she had an early morning World Politics class.
She arrived at her class on time, but a friend of hers arrived slightly late. She noticed he was sporting a large hickey on his neck.
She quietly passed him a note, asking him if he wanted to use her make-up compact to cover it up. He was unsure what she was talking about until later that evening when finally he got to a mirror. He instant messaged her later, "Sweet Zombie Jesus, it is huge." Apparently he had been oblivious to it the whole day.
They discussed solutions for getting rid of it and after discounting make-up, Doughty suggested that he could rub poison ivy on his neck, then scratch enough to cover it up, to which her friend responded, "that's like setting off a bomb to clean a room." Doughty also suggested that he could wear an eye patch on the other side to balance it out.
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