Ballzy reporter uncoverscampus tunnel rumor

Secret cabinets? Secluded glens? Like chlamydia, a number of campus legends have been passed around the Lewis & Clark student body. Luckily for you, I have made it my mission to investigate the truth behind these rumors and finally answer the question we have all been asking ourselves: Are the tunnels real? Or, are they merely a figment of some poor alumni’s miscalculated microdose?

Since I first arrived at LC, I heard tell of a forest glen adjacent to the backside of the Graduate Campus, often referred to colloquially as “Grampus,” or sometimes “Scampus.” Like the other charming tucked-away corners of the property, the glen has never been a particularly well-kept secret. However, it has proven slightly difficult to find without peer assistance.

Previous travelers have gone on record to say that crossing into Narnia was akin to stepping through a portal. Indeed, the dell is like something out of a storybook. A bench rests against the base of a mossy three-pronged tree. Through the thick veil of surrounding forestation, the tree line disappears and one cannot help but feel as though they have stumbled across the beating heart of the woods. To preserve this mystique, I will not reveal the exact location, but I encourage readers to hunt for Narnia themselves. Here is a hint: it is hidden in plain sight. Go at golden hour, bring a friend.

Upon descending into the tunnels, intrepid explorers will be greeted by the vast expanse of utility pipes. Wear your sexiest full-coverage winter coat, and don a respirator if you have one. In a pinch, a KN95 mask should suffice, but those underdressed run a higher risk of encountering a nasty fiberglass surprise. Near the most accessible entrance to the tunnels, adventurers will enjoy a scant gallery of graffiti: assorted tags, a brazen “X wuz here” and the occasional phallus. However, brave souls who dare to journey farther into the abyss will notice that this artwork tapers off, leaving the ballsiest — and least-claustrophobic — students to face the encroaching darkness alone, without the comforting presence of haphazardly Sharpied penii. It is fairly common knowledge that one must time their expedition carefully to avoid incurring severe burns from the pipes crisscrossing the length of the tunnels. To proceed, you must crawl, slide or awkwardly scoot underneath the metal rods. This can quickly become a treacherous feat if the heating spontaneously kicks on. An anonymous LC spelunker commented.

“If you’re not careful and accidentally go too far in, you could potentially get stuck until the pipes cool off again,” said anonymous.

In other words, crawl with caution or play a spectacularly horrific game of limbo. The tunnels run the length of the academic campus. As for the way in, you must source an underground expert to serve as your guide. Do not worry, they walk among us. You will most likely find them in the rose garden smoking cigarettes after hours.

Many upperclassmen will tell you that paying a visit to the tunnels is a time-honored LC tradition. I, for the sake of my scholarship, must remind you that only maintenance staff are allowed down there… I am apprehensive to even say they exist at all.

For the time being, the other rumors remain unsubstantiated. I can unfortunately neither confirm nor deny the presence of secret cabinets in Frank Manor, nor the allegations of a hidden booze compartment in one of the older buildings. I extend this investigation to my audience. If you are unafraid of authority and are incredulous at the fact that you are wasting your parents’ money on your tuition, go forth and uncover the mystery yourself.