At halftime, when I would stumble through the door which opened into the room of zen, I was not merely entering a hotel lobby, but stepping onto a new plane of existence, a higher plane of existence. I believe that a few pitchers of beer and a medium rare Texas burger were both crucial factors to experiencing this more perfect reality, but there were many more components that contributed to the spiritual journey in which I engaged weekly. Upon entering the room of zen the state of the natural order of things would be immediately clear. Sometimes I would find myself enveloped by a serene atmosphere of tranquility, the oracle would be at her post, the stream would be flowing gently, and the parrots would silently contemplate the peace that was around them. Other days the oracle would be conspicuously absent, the turtles would be far upstream as if fleeing from some intangible threat, and the parrots would squawk wildly. It was days like these I knew that there was some disruption to the cosmic order of the universe.
It was sad news indeed to find that the zen room was no more, however, I believe, and I think all who experienced that which this room had to offer would agree, that the room of zen has never truly disappeared. It lives on in the hearts and minds of all who ever walked around the volleyball net of ghosts, traversed the ground below the banners of forgotten victories, or cast an awe inspired gaze at the oracle, wondering how they were fortunate enough to reside amidst such glorious surroundings. Although the room of zen will be missed, I like to believe that the turtles finally completed their escape and made it to freedom before the room of zen made its final curtain call.
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