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The theater performance we're forced to watch in the Bodleian Quad disappoints, and Alison and I share looks of quiet desperation as it drags on. I sneak a glance at our professor. He's unmoving, watching the actors below. Alison and I lock eyes and I give a slight nod. We each duck our heads and leap off the bleacher-like benches and move quickly toward the opening of the Quad, our escape route. Our heads are still down and we're starting to giggle. When we make it out she grabs my hand and we break into a run, laughing without restraint as we sprint over cobblestone streets to freedom.