I am still not sure what combination of smelling like a campfire and some sort of forest magic it was, but having camped for a few weeks already we were suddenly surrounded by raccoons, and not just at the campsite.

Like, seriously I got stared at for several whole hours by a family of baby raccoons while pulling yet another late night editing session in the design lab at the school. Wait; actually, it might have been a late night mounting and matting session maybe? I honestly don’t remember. All I remember was playing peek-a-boo with four of the fluffiest baby raccoons I have ever seen. I seem to have lost the photo I took of them, otherwise you could totally ooh and aaw at them with me. Instead, just think of small grey puffballs with cute baby raccoon faces and you get the idea. The best part of all of this was that everyone in the lab was terrified to go outside because the raccoons were right above the door. Honestly, if you want to see the bizarrest thing, plant a bunch of baby raccoons in a window right above the exit to an art school printing lab full of half-starved, half-dead over-caffeinated college students who have never spent even a day in the woods in their lives. You will get a bunch of half-asleep people playing the world’s most paranoid game of peek-a-boo.

To give you a visual, the game goes like this: while staring straight at the raccoons peeking in under the top of the doorframe, try to quietly move as quickly as you can through the doorway while trying to look like you’re not moving. Then, look away briefly long enough to touch the door before one of the baby raccoons knocks on the window. Bolt in terror back to your original position. Stand around with your fellow students while debating whether or not the raccoons will attack you all. Repeat until some girl with a squeaky-nervous voice in the back of the room whisper-yells “What if they have rabies?” This was the game our fellow students were playing with the raccoons, who seemed to really get a kick out of it.

Now, as much as I’d love to believe that college students are smarter than this, bear in mind that all of this was happening right at the end of either finals week or midterms, I can’t really remember which, so pretty much everyone in that room was mentally fried including myself, and the only reason any of us were still awake was “deadlines, man.” For full effect, imagine that line spoken by a bleary-eyed college kid who clearly hasn’t showered in over a week with shaggy hair and bloodshot eyes, who is slightly vibrating from their fifth energy drink of the night. You’re welcome.

Anyways, I noticed the little cuties sometime after 10:00, right after the campus security guard had stopped by to let us know that we needed to finish up our projects or he’d have to lock us in. Oh no, don’t do that. Our time-sensitive projects we’ve been slaving over for the past couple of weeks can totally wait until the morning they’re due to get finished. Right. Meanwhile, the lab manager’s shift had ended an hour previously, and until the excitement had reminded us for the fourth time that, while he was being very generous in his patience, he really wanted to get to bed soon. Wait. Do you mean we don’t?!

As for me, I am by now just enjoying the fact that the manager is now among the group of unwilling peek-a-boo game-show participants. So there I am, calmly finishing my matting or whatever while just smiling up at those four adorable faces and silently thanking them for freaking the city folk out enough that I could finish whatever project I was working on. I think it was matting prints? Honestly, the deadlines and massive projects all blended together after awhile at that school.

I honestly couldn’t tell you if all this work was for an upcoming gallery show, our mid-term show or the actual big scary final grad-review portfolio showcase the fate of my graduation hinged on. I legit don’t remember, I was so fried. All I remember was needing just a few more minutes, and staring at those adorable faces thinking, “you know, I could really get used to a pet raccoon. They seem to be pretty friendly, and they are excellent painters.” I’d know: I was lucky enough to meet the Picasso of baby raccoons at Camp Dennison some night previous. We’d accidently left the powdered milk out on the table at the campsite, and were rewarded with the most adorable finger (paw?) painting I have ever seen. Unfortunately, before I could grab my camera, the camp host had come by and was already hosing the table off because of something-something-blah-blah-blah ants. So now I have no way of proving how awesome this painting was. Seriously though, don’t leave open containers of powdered milk out unless you happen to live with baby raccoon Picasso and don’t mind ants.

So anyway, nearly half an hour passes this way, and by this point I have finished my project and am totally just enjoying the show. I mean, come on; how many college students does it take to realize that the moment someone actually walks out the door, those baby raccoons are gone? Like, they are legit smart, and humans can be mean. They don’t hang around, much less attack people with their cute baby raccoon rabies. Finally, sometime around or just past midnight, in walks the security guard from earlier, (through the other, much less raccoon-enhanced doorway nobody had remembered existed in the excitement) who is now staring angrily at all of us demanding to know why we are still there because it is now way past office hours, and the campus had been closed and locked up for nearly two hours now. The lab manager starts mumbling incoherently about how they couldn’t leave because of killer raccoons or something, while everyone else looks at the guard, then at the raccoon-free doorway, then gets really quiet out of sheer embarrassment.

The security guard looks at us with that look of “seriously? You’re all kidding, right?” mixed with “just go home” and “I don’t get paid enough for this” before looking at the other door and saying, “What raccoons?” All eyes in the room flicked to the other, now freshly also-raccoon-free doorway. More embarrassed silence. About three college kids get over it enough to point at the window where one of the raccoons had just peeked in briefly to say goodbye, and chime in with “Those raccoons! The ones up… there… never mind…”

The moral of this story: college kids need sleep, security guards don’t get paid nearly enough, and baby raccoons are awesome. I hope you enjoyed my little side tangent. Join me next week for a lesson in magic and a whole lot of feathers.