All of the events described below truly happened. However, I have changed the names of specific individuals to maintain their privacy.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016 –7:15pm: I’m in Frank with a couple of friends. It’s a typical weeknight dinner. We’re recounting the implicit racism of our classmates and enjoying a second helping of our fourth potato product.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016 –7:40pm: We’ve moved onto dessert. As we gobble down a chocolate mess and extra soft soft-serve, my friend Zoboomafoo (pseudonym) gasps. “Big Ang is DEAD!” she exclaims. A hush falls over the dining hall.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016 –7:42pm: “Oh wait, jk. She’s alive.” Zoboomafoo finishes reading the article she pulled up. She discovers that the Big Ang death reports were “ completely inaccurate .” Frank is restored to order.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016 –11:30pm: I return to my room and prepare to crawl into bed.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016 –11:42pm: After twelve minutes of heavy breathing and flailing limbs, I am finally able to get from the floor and onto my elevated bed. Sleep does not come easy. I struggle to shake off an uneasiness concerning the false reports. I eventually drift off into a sweaty dreamless sleep.
Thursday, February 18, 2016 –3:01am: I produce an audible yell that wakes up my roommate Ms. Frizzle (pseudonym). The force of the gasp sends me tumbling to the ground. As I begin to lose feeling in my left leg, I reach for my phone to seek emergency medical care. My eyes lock on the time –3:01 (3:01 in military time). I’m overcome with chills and fall into a hellish fever dream right there on the floor.
Thursday, February 17, 2016 –7:56am: I receive the following text from my mom:
“Big aunt passed away...” Having just woken up from a night of interrupted sleep cycles, I am unable to fully process this information. I immediately begin to worry about my Aunt Larry the Cucumber (pseudonym). My dad’s slightly overweight sister with a heart murmur.
Thursday, February 17, 2016 –8:32am: I eventually peel myself off the floor and craft a response to my mother. I am relieved when I remember last night’s dining hall fiasco. I fact check my mom with this eloquent counter response:
Thursday, February 17, 2016 –8:35am: I then fact check myself with a twitter feed prowl. Big Ang is dead. I throw my phone across the room and begin to weep. “Why Big Ang, Why not my fat Aunt! Why God, Why?” I email all of my professors and tell them I will not be in class. Then I begin to wonder… did my friend Zoboomafoo kill Big Ang?
As I come to terms with the loss of this Reality TV Icon and retrace the events leading up to my discovery of her death, I am forced to wonder: Was the weight of celebrity and gossip too much for her ailing heart to handle? Did we, as insatiable pop-culture consumers, take and take until there was no more Ang to give. The loss of Big Ang is a tragedy, but not an isolated event. In our grief we should view the death of Big Ang as a cautionary tale: an example of millennial greed and nihilism gone too far.
But in all seriousness, I think it's important to recognize that underneath the larger than life persona of “Big Ang,” there was an actual life. Yes, Big Ang made for captivating television and memes.
She was outrageous and unfiltered but still relatable.
She was a party animal.
She was a fashion icon.
But she was more than a plastic surgery gag or cheesy Odyssey article. Angela Raiola was a person. My thoughts go out to her family and friends who knew her best.
