If I wanted to have a Ke$ha glow stick dance party at 3 a.m., I would have set my alarm.
The privilege of living in the dorms is that you get to challenge conventional notions of “sleep” and “night.” This is to say, dormitory living ensures that everyone’s comings and goings, no matter the time, are clear and certain to everyone within a liberally defined audible range.
Broome Hall was doomed from the beginning. Put up too hastily, the walls in many of the rooms failed to connect to the ceilings. Though the problem was rectified over winter break, I’m still confused how the building was able to stand like that for an entire semester. I’m no architect, but I have built a fair share of Lego buildings in my day.
I guess the Newing College contractors were feeling experimental? Why do what everyone before you has done, right?
Though structurally interesting, I suppose, the construction failures created a host of all sorts of privacy, sleep and work issues. All things considered, my roommate and I decided to explore off-campus living options for next year.
Craigslist, the notorious online collection of advertisements and classifieds, led us to a nice five-bedroom house in Downtown Binghamton. In the middle of the tour, the landlady showing us the property abruptly demanded that we play Scrabble with her. A bit taken, my roommate and I figured one game couldn’t hurt. After the woman insisted that we come to her home just down the road where the game board was, we beat it. Too creepy.
The next possibility was an affordable four-bedroom apartment close to Downtown and the bus lines. We made plans with a kind-sounding man to show us the place. I want to tell you in advance, I’ve got nothing against animals. Dogs. Cats. Fish. They’re great. So don’t think we were being too picky in turning down this apartment as well.
As the bearded older man slid his key in to unlock the front door, he turned and asked brazenly, “You boys like animals?” My roommate and I glanced at each other and nodded nervously. As the man swung the door open, the first thing that caught my eye was the literal monkey sitting on a beer pong table perched against a stolen stop sign. The messiest fraternity house could not compare.
The highlight of the housing expedition was nearly being eaten by the unidentifiable reptile this kind, deluded man had in his apartment. Not to mention the reptile was wearing a Snuggie. How does that happen? Couldn’t he have tailored a Binghamton sweatshirt to fit this jungle creature instead? Come on! Where’s the school spirit?
How are we supposed to “connect with the local community” when they do so little to shed their reputation? You would expect the “locals/townies” to at least try to dissuade us from believing that they’re in fact all meth-heads who buy illegal crocodiles’ food with whatever money Walmart agrees to refund them for those dented Prego tomato sauce cans.
On campus, it’s sometimes difficult to recall that all those crazy statistics about the city of Binghamton aren’t meaningless. I had a hunch that those news pieces were generated by jealous students at other SUNY schools (I’m on to you, Albany!), but Binghamton truly has its share of crazies.
Which leads me to wondering aloud (in print, at least): do customizable Snuggies exist? If so, can the school bookstore procure and disseminate them now, please?