So what's up with housing at Dartmouth? Can I say that the deadline for signing up for housing is approaching rapidly? I figure I have to start exploring my options. This is what I've come up with so far...
Mass Row -- This would be ideal housing for me if I had punches. Having Food Court as a backyard is convenient, and I would be guaranteed never to miss a meal. But I would just have to remember to bring my compass on those late Saturday nights when the difference between north and south ceases to exist.
The Choates -- Suffice it to say that the first time I walked by the Choates I was immediately reminded of a correctional facility I once saw in Detroit that was designed especially for reforming hard-core criminals who had committed at least four first-degree murders and countless bank robberies. I was amused then, and I still chuckle to myself when I meet someone who says, "Hi. I live in Little," but, when I got my housing number in my Hinman box, suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. Or, that could be me next year.
The River -- Requesting the River for my first choice living arrangement would be like calling up EBA's and asking for a pizza with nothing but anchovies. Or, that would be dumb. Why would I want to live in Vermont and have to leave my dorm at 5:00 p.m. to meet my friends at 7:00 p.m. for dinner at Thayer? But I'm not that worried because I know that if I do end up there next year at least I won't have that much to bring up because it won't fit in my room.
The Lodge -- Where is it?--right in my backyard.
Butterfield -- Wouldn't it be nice to walk out of your room on Sunday morning and trip over a can of V-8 instead of a Miller Light, walk down the hall and step over a textbook instead of a pile of vomit and have your neighbor ask you for a Flinstones vitamin instead of a case of Advil? But wait -- people could know I live in Butterfield.
Greek House -- I wouldn't have to tell people where I lived because they could smell it.
The New Dorms -- Living in the new dorms next year would be like waking up in the Ritz Carlton every morning greeted by my personal maid cheerfully cleaning the toilet bowl with a toothbrush. I would never worry about living in unsanitary conditions and stepping into my plush abode after working out at the gym across the street would not be a problem. The only difficulty might occur when I am composing my pre-party party guest list and realize that it would be rude not to invite my neighbor. Or, that could be the dean.
So after weighing my housing options, I have come to the conclusion that having to choose housing is worse than waiting on line all day at the registrar to change into the one class that I suddenly realize I need to take in order to be allowed to graduate with my class, only to reach the front and hear the words, "Congratulations!! You're so lucky. You got the last spot!" said to the person that I was nice enough to let cut in front of me...
