Fleas

For the last few years, I have had rare (my parents see it once every 3 or 4 months) and extremely insignificant sleepwalking episodes. I walk around the second floor a few times and eventually make it back to bed. If one of my parents see me walking the second floor late at night, they issue the quick and easy sleepwalking test: “Hey Kev, are you sleepwalking?” If I say “no,” they know I’m not sleepwalking, but if I respond with unidentifiable mumbles, they escort me back to bed. Up until recently, from what my parents have seen, the most advanced task I have done is traverse the hallways, possibly holding a pillow and get a drink. A few weeks ago, I started having more peculiar sleepwalking bouts. On the second week of school, while sleepwalking, I turned on the lights to my room, took off and folded my pajamas, put on an outfit (surprisingly, one which matched and worked well aesthetically), charged my phone and go back in bed. This weekend, my parents saw me sleepwalking on

Brrrrriiiingg. My brother and I promptly jumped out of bed with excitement. it was going to be the first time we had ever attended a major sporting event. A Copa America final between Argentina and Chile being played only a few miles away from our aunt’s house. An opportunity to see the best player in the world play for our favorite team. After a few moments of looking in the mirror and realizing that the day had finally come, we quickly got dressed and headed to the bus stop across the street. After anxiously waiting, we got on the bus. When we arrived, it felt surreal. The stadium itself was massive, and since we had never been to a stadium larger than the U of I’s football stadium, it was a humbling fixture to stand in front of. The surrounding parking area was chock-full of supporters blasting music and cooking food and the air was filled with excitement and anticipation. In the blink of an eye, the gates opened and people started flooding into the stadium, and soon enough, the g