a descriptive paragraph : chapel

     We scan our four-year faded red bar-codes on our plastic I.D. cards under the red LED of the scanner attached to a lanyard draped in Sam’s loose, pink hand.  She is one of four students, each equipped with hand-held scanners, and a small band of students piling around their posts in the foyer, flanking the sides of the two wide entryways into the chapel. The scanner beeps. We hurry through the doorway, scanning the burgundy-colored carpeted aisles with our eyes for a place to sit in the maze of occupied and open seats, teeth and fillings belonging to one giant, gaping mouth. The chapel is alive; students push their way through the aisles dividing the rows of seats like blood pulsing through arteries. Each wave that finds their seats is replaced with a new, busy cluster. We claim a couple of seats towards the back. My friend leans forward to tap the shoulder of a thin, golden-haired girl sitting in front of us.  A black, wool jacket with a brand-name tag drapes the back of her chair. Securing the fit of the jacket over her seat, she turns to exchange a quick, delighted “Hello!” before snapping her neck around and standing at the bellow of the organ. I fumble to find a safe place for my ceramic mug in a space below an open seat in front of me, a shove my black messenger bag next to it, before joining the others in standing. I notice a friend rushing down the aisle, heaving his heavy backpack high upon his back, making his way towards the front of the chapel. Behind him, a few stragglers find seats towards the side of the aisles. Two faculty members and one student file out onto the stage before us.  Chapel is about to begin.