“Motels are strictly for love-making.” — My academic adviser

Fortaleza has a split personality: it is both incredibly Christian and incredibly obsessed with sexuality. Saturday night masses gather at beachside raves and forró dances, before Sunday afternoon masses at gargantuan churches beside tiny clay-roofed houses. Some of my friends are never allowed to stay out past 11 p.m., while others have 17-year-old host-sisters forcing caipirinhas and Brasilian club music down their throats.

Regardless of conservatism, the home in Fortaleza is a sacred place of family gathering. Children cherish their parents and never seem to want to leave home-cooked overflowing bowls of rice, beans and some kind of meat. Except, when they crave some love-making. The home is never a suitable location for love-making. But hordes of pay-by-the-hour motels guard the classification of Fortaleza as a city for ficantes (ones that mommy não quer ficar em casa).

I pass several of these motels on my bus ride back from school and think about the respect that the Cearense people have for their families. I also occasionally think of sex. Other people’s sex. Not in a sexual way, but in a practical way — as in, how convenient would this motel model be for the sexiled counterpart of the over-hyped (and over-discussed) Yale hookup scene.

As soon as Stiles leaves Swing Space, why not screw the grad students and make Swing Space a love-shed capable of accommodating the suspiciously high number of boners reported by the Yale Daily News.


While facilitating a hookup generally makes you feel like a great friend, spending hours on a broken ikea futon, while your roommate tries to drown out moans with Air Supply, flat-out sucks. The Swing Space Space for Swingers would allow you to redirect your roommate to a different locale, enabling you to get a good night’s sleep and him/her to get the loving he/she deserves.


The consistently empty condom bags in residential college entryways would have you believe that everyone of your hallmates is getting down on a regular basis. In reality, three or four dudes are “stocking up,” while four or five dudes are looking to ease their daily clean-up routines. The true love-makers are forced to make 2 a.m. stops at the Puff Corn paradise known as the Shell Gas Station. A central location for love-making would enable easier distribution of prophylactics, ensuring that the people who need protection get it — for free.


Occasionally, love-making takes place between two people with very little emotional connection. Perhaps she goes to a different college or he is drunk and just coherent enough to impulsively purchase a five-hour energy and four dollar shot of ExtenZe at Gourmet Heaven. Either way, you don’t want this fucker up in your personal belongings, let alone jacking a pair of boxers and/or your favorite sweatshirt the next morning. With nothing to steal, the motel love session ends with the romantic still of an ass-out hug and a stiff goodbye.


Chances are, love-makers are going to oversleep their weekend brunch (not to mention that weekend breakfast that nobody uses/knows about). To keep up maintenance on the Swing Space Space for Swingers, Yale could charge consumers their morning’s swipes for their evening’s romances. Given the continued inefficiencies of Yale Dining, those four swipes would add up to around $80 by the motel’s fall 2011 opening, more than paying for Swing’s Ramada Inn charm. Now to convince Dick Levin to pay us back after taking away our daily lunch-time wraps at the Law School.