Seek, and ye shall not be found: Five places to hide when you and a couple of beers are the only witnesses to sexual assault
Copy Desk Chief
On Saturday, Oct. 6, Brett Kavanaugh, a former circuit judge for the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, was nominated to the Supreme Court by a historically narrow 50 to 48 vote, which was divided almost exclusively along party lines.
After Christine Blasey Ford, a professor and research psychologist in California, came forward with allegations of sexual assault against Kavanaugh, the confirmation process, and the attention swirling around it, shifted from a partisan dispute over an important judicial seat to a national referendum on sexual assault and misconduct.
For over a month, this process has scorched headlines and galvanized an arsenal of politicians — Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) likened it to a “caricature of a gutter-level political campaign” in an impassioned speech on the Senate floor; Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), meanwhile, charged that Kavanaugh’s testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee was “better suited for Fox News.”
The process has also engendered a screeching cacophony of emotions and reactions from the American public. Some have taken to haranguing senators in elevators on Capitol Hill, while others — namely, President Donald Trump — have attempted to deride Ford’s credibility. In light of Saturday’s vote, many expressed anguish, exasperation and hopelessness; others rejoiced, sipping brews and hashtagging #Beers4Brett on Twitter.
The initial reaction to hide out in a friend’s beach house in Bethany Beach, Del., however, was almost certainly restricted to one man: Mark Judge. Judge was the other individual alleged to be in the room during Ford’s assault.
“[Judge] seemed ambivalent,” Ford testified before the committee, “at times urging Brett on and at times telling him to stop.”
It was, in fact, Kavanaugh and Judge’s “uproarious laughter” that is most etched into Ford’s memories from that night.
The Washington Post discovered Judge’s hiding spot on Sept. 24. “How’d you find me?” Judge demanded, at which point the reporter beckoned to a car in the driveway that contained a package addressed to him, as well as hordes of clothing and Superman comics.
Despite Judge’s failed attempt to sequester himself in Bethany Beach from the “media firestorm” surrounding Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings, we at The Review have not given up hope that there are plenty of scarcely-trafficked hiding places in Delaware. In fact, there are five that come to mind at the university alone.
Graham Hall. Of all the university’s aggressive, Brutalist structures, Graham Hall, by far, bears the closest resemblance to a prison. In this sense, its encaged windows, boxy shape and low-to-the-ground design might make it easier to invoke the power of positive thinking and actually convince yourself that you’re imprisoned, and cannot leave. Furthermore, its interior is laden with abrupt hallway turns, randomly obtruding walls and painfully awkward modes of navigating the building, all of which are thoroughly conducive to hiding oneself from an impending media onslaught.
Cal Tor. California Tortilla — better-known as Cal Tor — caters to a more exclusive (or elusive) audience than other Main Street guac-and-chips authorities, like El Diablo and Chipotle. For this reason, the restaurant, which boasts both indoor and outdoor seating, is almost always empty. That said, you could arguably go unnoticed in a dimly-lit corner of Cal Tor for several weeks.
The gender-neutral bathrooms in the basement of Morris Library. These bathrooms, adjacent to the East Central Stairway, are among the most coveted real estate spots in the entire library. They are almost always occupied, so if you manage to secure one of them, and you choose to hide in there for, say, a week or two, no one will be surprised to find the door consistently locked.
Worrilow Hall. Has anyone ever actually heard of this place? If you have, please inform us, so we can amend this list. If you haven’t, it’s located on the College of Agriculture and Natural Resources (CANR) Campus. Worrilow’s remote location and overall inconspicuousness among university students render it a perfect hideaway for a few days, weeks or even a month, if need be.
Finn McCool’s on a Thursday night. Last, and quite possibly least, while the once-but-no-longer-Catherine-Rooney’s pub has not completely eliminated “Pitchers” — its singular, Thursday night feature that offers patrons a full pitcher of any mixed drink for $5 — it has managed to run off much of the evening’s former clientele. There are various locations inside Finn McCool’s on a Thursday night that will provide a sufficient degree of seclusion, but you can’t go wrong hiding underneath one of the empty tables that now occupy the former dance floor, just to the left as you walk in.