Reporter's Notebook
Morale workers show pep and perform unusual duties to raise sunken spirits

It is nearly impossible to put my involvement with dance marathon in perspective just a few hours after leaving White Building. In 48 hours as a morale person I met my dancer couple, bounced plastic balls for an eternity, hung out in bathrooms, got showered in baby powder, massaged everything from feet to butts and left drained from being spunky for 16 hours.

For anyone who did not have the chance to visit 'Thon, moralers are the yellow-shirted people whose job it is to keep dancers motivated. Each moraler is assigned a specific couple for whom he or she is responsible. Moralers are also the ones who tend to piss people off the most because of their incessant happiness.

Because of the infinite experiences that I am tempted to write about, the best way to go through my 'Thon experience is describe each of my shifts.

Pre-Thon, Friday 4 p.m. -- Because my dancers, Heather Brown and Tony Galletti, were representing the Altoona Campus, I had yet to meet them. We arranged to meet before 'Thon started so I would at least know what they looked like. They were both excited but nervous about the fact that they were not allowed to know what time it was throughout the weekend. After 45 minutes of them trying to get me to tell them what time my shifts were, I took them to the HUB ballroom for their orientation.

First shift, Friday, 7:45 to 11:45 p.m. -- As far as being spunky goes, this shift was a piece of cake. All of the dancers were excited to be there. With six of my fraternity brothers dancing, along with my dancer couple and many other friends participating, I spent the majority of this shift working my way around the floor and wishing everyone good luck. We also spent an hour or so teaching the dancers to shake it like a dog and walk like an Egyptian in the line dance.

Second shift, Saturday, 6 to 10 a.m. -- It's hard not to look tired after waking up at 5 a.m. Before 'Thon, I'd never been up that early, unless I stayed up that late. Considering they had been on their feet for 11 hours, my dancers looked great. And they did not seem to care that my eyes were barely open. They told me their legs were getting a little weak and they were starting to get tired, but they were having a good time. Throughout the night they had made necklaces out of pasta and changed their shoes for comfort. By the end of my shift of fluttering around the floor like a social butterfly, though, I could tell they were fading fast. Their eyes were bloodshot and they were moving slowly. I knew I would have my work cut out for me during my next shift.

Third shift, Saturday, 5:15 to 9:15 p.m. -- Heather and Tony were nowhere near as bad as I thought they would be. However, they were noticeably dazed and moving much slower than before. As I handed Heather the coloring books, tennis balls, beach ball and pretzels she asked for, she repeated, "This rocks!" As far as I could tell, that was as far as her grasp of the English language went at the time. Tony was the worse of the two -- he stared at one spot in space for close to five minutes at a time, but was happy about the USA Today weekend edition that I had brought for him.

I also performed my most interesting duty during this shift. Throughout 'Thon periodic bathroom breaks are scheduled. During these breaks every dancer goes to the bathroom and then runs back to the floor to slide onto powder-covered mats, where moralers massage their entire body. Somehow I got stuck in the bathroom telling male dancers to "Push it out, shove it out, way out!" I also had the honorable duty of forming two lines -- one for each bodily function.

As humbling as this job may have been, this shift was a great chance for me to get to know the other people on Wrambling Wright's Wreally Wrambunctious Wrongs -- my morale team. We had gone to meetings together for months, but not until this point did we get the chance to really get to know each other.

Fourth shift, Sunday, 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. -- Heather and Tony looked like the walking dead. Their legs were like jelly and they kept on having hallucinations about being in Altoona (pretty scary, I thought). They both requested foot massages. Tony apologized for his toenails being so long, but strangely, it did not faze me. I had met these two people no less than 36 hours before and I was willing to do anything for them. I just wanted to see them make it through.

During this shift I got to experience the other side of the bathroom break, where my morale team massaged all the dancers that came through. I consider myself to be accepting of all lifestyles and far from homophobic, but I never pictured myself massaging guys' butts. "Suck it up and deal," I said to myself, "It's for a good cause."

As the end of my shift approached I began to get incredibly emotional. I knew this would be my last time on the floor and that I would not be able to stay for the end of 'Thon, when all of the families speak. It was hard for me to believe that I had become so attached to my dancers and I had the toughest time leaving. However, I know that they made it through one of the hardest experiences of their lives and that I was able to help them do it. And besides the fact that I have always found the fluff and happiness involved with morale to be a little annoying, I can honestly say that 'Thon is one of the greatest events in which I could have participated.