According to a Jan. 15 email from interim president Tom Galligan, vaccines have arrived at the University and are already being distributed slowly but steadily among the faculty, staff and student population.

Like many other students at the University, I have yet to receive the vaccine. Like many other students, I want a vaccine. Like…really, really want one. In fact, I would do downright unspeakable things to feel those mRNA fragments coursing through my veins.

I would streak through the Quad at noon past Ambassadors leading Destination LSU tours for admitted freshmen and families, the Memorial Tower cheering me on as it chimes the LSU alma mater.

I would dress up as a campus squirrel and adopt their squirrel culture for a week. Digging through the trash cans, climbing the highest ledges of the LSU Library, stealing French fries dropped by students mere seconds earlier — I would do it all.

I would accept to have every one of my remaining classes in Lockett Hall. Not only that, I would ask that my professors constantly change their classrooms and alert me only minutes before every lecture. I want to spend my days madly dashing through Lockett, trying to make sense of the erratically numbered rooms.

I would play a football game solo against the 2019 National Championship-winning LSU Tigers. Never mind that I’ve never played football, that after hours in Death Valley I still don’t know the rules, that I’m weak and flabby from months of online work — if I need to body slam Joe Burrow to get the vaccine, I will do it without hesitation. Joe, beware.

I would go on a date with Mike the Tiger and treat him like the king that he is. We would feast on steak tartare, talk about our mutual interests on his comfort rock, take a sunset stroll around the Habitat and if things go right, maybe he’d invite me for a nightcap in his cage…

There’s no limit to the lengths I’d go to for a dose of the vaccine. I would smooch Tom Galligan’s bald head, sit through every interminable Student Government Senate meeting, join the Free Speech Plaza preachers in yelling at hell-bound passersby and spend the night naked north of the Arctic Circle (the fourth floor of the library.) For the ability to go back to seeing groups of people without fear, I would do nearly anything.

Hopefully, I won’t have to actually do anything special to get vaccinated. But if someone out there has an extra vaccine dose and a penchant for making gangly white girls embarrass themselves in public, well, my DMs are always open at the Twitter handle in my header.  
Cécile Girard is a 21-year-old psychology junior from Lake Charles.