The doughtnuts were a nice touch.

I have done a lot of stupid things; I have done a lot bad things; I have (allegedly) committed more than my fair share of crimes; I have only stolen one maintenance van.

I was drunk. It was snowing. My dorm was two minutes away; however, I had long since abandoned staying in my own actual room, instead I chose to sleep at my friends' dorm on their pile of dirty clothes located on the other side of campus, which was at best, a thirty minute trek for a fat guy in my inebriated state. Remember, I was drunk, it was snowing and I faced the all too real possibility of a half hour trek across campus, something had to give.

Inspiration struck in the form of a university maintenance van. It was double parked in the fire lane, and to my drunken delight smoke was pouring out of the exhaust. I lumbered over the van, confirmed no one was about or in the van, and affirmed my suspicion that the keys were in the ignition. It seemed almost too easy.

I had a very valid reason to be drunk to the point where committing a felony appeared like a winning idea, you see the upperclassman threw a rush party in the hope of attracting future, fellow violent alcoholics. It was my duty as Bluto in waiting to consume copious amounts of beer and liquor and to crush whatever trashing talking inanimate object was at hand. I may not have paid my dues on time, attended chapter meetings or contributed to any charitable causes, but I was the best obnoxious drunk they had. The freshman guys loved me; I was like a mentally challenged super hero to them.

Since I was likely headed to pass out alone on a pile of unlaundered filth, I figured a little light company was in order. Before opening the van's door, I walked over to a fawning, potential pledge, gripped him by the arm and dragged him to the passenger's side door. He attempted to protest, I shook my head sternly side to side and half threw him into his ordained seat. I walked over to the driver's side, calmly opened the door, sat down on my warm mobile throne and put the van into reverse.

One should never drive drunk, but if you are going to do it, make sure to bring along a passenger - driving alone is a crime, driving with a friend is a conspiracy. I don't remember much of the drive to my waiting bed of soiled boxers and socks, but I am pretty sure I followed all of the major traffic laws, except, of course, the one about driving while under the influence of alcohol. According to my passenger/hostage's later recollection, I didn't strike any road signs or pedestrians, all things considered that has to be considered a plus.

Upon arrival to the far side of campus, I couldn't find a parking spot, so I parked the van in the fire lane next to my friends' dorm - the journey had come full circle.

I almost missed them when I got of the car. Fortuitously, I caught whiff of their delectable aroma: a baker's dozen of doughnuts were lodged beside the driver's seat. I took the doughnuts, graciously offered one to my unwilling accomplice, who wisely accepted, and took the rest up to my waiting pile of clothes. They weren't the best doughnuts I have ever eaten, but whom I am to complain.

The incident was never mentioned in the crime reports of the local and student newspapers. Considering I left a variety of fingerprints in and out the vehicle, and that my exact arrival was logged in as I used my ID card to enter the dorm, it wouldn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce the guilty party.

I always wondered why the crime wasn't reported. Perhaps the maintenance guy was too embarrassed to tell his supervisors, maybe he feared losing his job over his egregious oversight of leaving the van unlocked with the engine running, or, as I liked to think, it was an act of a loving deity who took pity on his retarded child. Whatever the case, I got it on like Donkey Kong and lived to tell the tale.