Friday night. Most Americans yearn for and fantasy about the weekends as soon as they start work on Monday. But when you live in the residence halls, the weekend simply means more noise, less sleep, and an influx of drunk/hungover residents in my lobby. Annoyingly so, this semester has been crazier than those in recent memory. I blame Kim Kardasian.
My apartment is situated in the worst spot possible--right off the main lobby. Every Friday and Saturday, students from all over campus congregate outside my door, blasting music and screaming at each other about how many rounds of beer pong they plan on winning. I hear every drunken boast and sexual innuendo. I see every barely-dressed gal run to an awaiting cab in 3-inch stilettos. And I smell ever cigarette lit up outside right under my A/C unit.
Once 11pm hits, I am a prisoner in my own home, unable to leave without drawing unwanted attention, since students unabashedly lean against my door, believing it to be a broom closet. Over the past two years, my drive towards mental health has led me to have a little fun at my residents' expense. For example, when a glance through the peephole reveals someone against my door, I start quietly tapping my fingernails, crescendoing into a loud bang with my fists at just the right moment to scare them away, which usually forces the first wave of students to give the apartment a wide birth. This is especially effective in thwarting students dumb enough to turn the door knob.
Other times, I have abruptly opened my entrance way only to watch with glee as several residents topple into my apartment with dazed looks on their faces. They are too surprised to notice that they fell into the hall director's home; they just mumble an apology and run for the safety of the open lobby. And, on at least two occasions, I have chosen to take my garbage out during the evening chaos, "accidentally" hitting at least three girls lounging at the base of my door with my bags. The last time I did this, I had to call Campus Safety, because they were pretty belligerent and intoxicated. Guess which side of the story CS believed?
Despite the fun I have annoying students on the weekend, I think I speak for most of the live-in professionals out there when I say I long for the time when I have a apartment or house that does not share residency with hundreds of students. The free apartment is nice, but it comes with a hefty price tag in the form of therapy bills, medication, and gallons of concealer for the bags under my eyes.