Last spring, my suitemates and I got last pick in the Branford housing lottery. On room-draw day, after an hour of sitting uncomfortably in the overcrowded common room and watching every good suite get taken, we were left with K21. (Blah blah blah OK now you know where I live. Big deal. You could have figured it out on Yale Facebook anyway.) K21 has an average-sized common room, two singles and two doubles. It’s centrally located in the main courtyard of Branford and has a lovely window seat, thankyouverymuch. What’s the “problem,” then? Um well. It’s next to the God Quad.
My suitemates and I have spent the past week discovering both the joys and struggles of our new arrangement. Never having to walk more than 10 feet to get to a party? Joy. Being neighbors with six of the most fun senior guys in Branford? Joy. Waking up Sunday morning to a toilet that has been completely separated from the wall? Struggle.
Several of the issues that surfaced during Camp Yale had to do with the lovely class of 2013. Yay freshmen! Yay feeling old! In talking to my friends/observing at parties there seem to be two prevailing feelings about the Class of 2013: They’re obnoxious, but they’re hott.
It was only too true on Sunday, the first night of Camp Yale that the freshman presence was especially felt on the Yale party scene. And those fuckers (am I allowed to say “fuckers”?) got away with way too much due to their inane cuteness. Finally done with registration, security and sex talks, a cappella and improv showcases and meetings with freshman counselors, the class of 2013 was ready to check out the real reason we all chose Yale over Harvard in the first place: the social scene. God Quad decided to celebrate.
At around midnight, one God Quad member silenced the crowd and yelled, “If you’re a freshman, say ‘Slay mad bitches!’ ”
“Slay mad bitches,” 2013 obediently replied.
“OK, now say the name of the person you want to have sex with tonight!”
Not a single freshman in the room was silent. Clearly, the night was going well.
But then at around 12:30, a young man clad in red attempted to pilfer a bottle of vodka from the God Quad fridge. Yes, we all saw you, and yes, we know you weren’t “taking it to the bar.” But you’re a freshman and were thus forgiven. You’re welcome. Don’t let it happen again.
On a more personal note, there was the bathroom issue. While sharing a bathroom with two members of the God Quad has been fairly painless (read: we never see them), sharing a bathroom with every attendee of the God Quad’s parties is rarely a fun experience. So, in a (potentially douchey but totally necessary) protective measure, we decided to lock the door to the bathroom on Sunday night. (Correction: According to my suitemate Gen, we decided to remove the tape we had previously used to keep the door from locking.)
BUT ANYWAY, GEN.
Even though we had locked the bathroom, when I went in to wash up a bit at around 1 a.m., there were two freshies waiting in line to use the single stall.
“Uh. How did you get in here?” I asked.
“Someone opened it for us?” one girl replied.
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Um … I don’t know … ” she whimpered.
She looked so sad. So eager to please. So scared. And I relented, melted by her wide-eyed stare.
“Well, it’s my bathroom,” I finally said. “Go ahead and use it. But don’t tell anyone else you got in.”
After relieving themselves (luckily, neither threw up), the two girls scurried off into the night to join a mass of other freshmen standing around in the courtyard. The group swayed as though they were a field of algae moved by a current, all drunkenly contemplating their next move.
And the worst part is, I know I did exactly the same thing a year ago.