Fordham housing is only comparatively better as a Junior
by John Looby
I have lived in pretty shit circumstances since I got to Fordham. We’ve got a beautiful campus here; the dormitories on the other hand leave much to be desired. My first year here I lived in the anti-luxury that is the basement of Jogues; two years later that hell hole still leaves scars on my very soul. My second year I took one rung upward the ladder of Fordham squalor into the basement of Finlay. While there may not have been cockroaches I did have the pleasure of being downwind from several literal piles of trash, which meant that trying to air the room out was basically an exercise in futility. Now a junior I’ve finally moved onward and upward into Walsh. I mean upward only in the most literal fashion I’m on the tenth floor, living here is still pretty fucking shitty.
First and foremost my shower spews up grime and just blatantly doesn’t drain. By the end of a ten-minute shower I’m standing in knee high filth water. I say filth because I really don’t know nor do I care to think about what the mess that floats in the water of my shower consists of. My roommates and I have put in multiple work orders in an attempt escape drowning in the black abyss of shit and squalor. The work order was responded to once; they cleaned the top of the drain and told us there was nothing they could because fuck us I guess. I’m not a trained plumber but I’m fairly certain that things are supposed to go down the drain not out of it like some fucked up reenactment of the shining in which my feet get stained with whatever putrid substance of the week the drain gods have chosen. Broken shower aside the other bathroom exists in perpetual darkness. I don’t mean that as a metaphor the lights are broken because life is meaningless and we should just embrace the dark void now. At least that’s what I’ve gotten out of the multiple unanswered work orders.
Bathrooms aside the walls are uncomfortably thin. If you really want to know the intimate details of your roommate’s lives move into Walsh and by intimate details I mean whenever they masturbate or have sex because privacy is a lie. I’d recommend you evaluate any potential roommates based on their taste in music because holy fuck country music is a blight on the history of man. In Walsh your roommate’s music will find you and it will kill your will to live. Apparently even the floors are super thin or maybe I’m just living beneath a herd of shitface drunk elephants who communicate through an elaborate series of stomps or maybe fuck those guys.
The walls may be thin but also apparently they leak water, a lot of it too. I woke up to a flooded hallway and not just a damp carpet there were puddles in the hall. I could see my reflection in them; I looked like the type of person who would live in a flooded apartment building. At this point I’m of the honest belief that we are at most a month out from the tenth floor of Walsh transforming into a swamp with it’s own indigenous population of reptiles. These reptiles would be large and certainly carnivorous. I imagine we’ll be fighting them off with the piece of shit “chairs” in my living room.
My whole hearted expectation/fantasy for this year is for Walsh to collapse into anarchy akin to J.G. Ballard’s High Rise. By this I mean the various floors will go to war with each other in order to gain access to better circumstances and roaming parties of scavengers we’ll stalk the halls presumably in search of a functioning shower. I’m surprised this hasn’t happened in years prior who could live in a apartment building and not want to establish floor based war bands? Personally anytime I see someone use the elevator to go to anything below the fifth floor of garbage shacks I want to start an uprising against the lower floors for making me 30 seconds late to class.
Walsh is meant to be the big step up we all look forward to after two years of living in the shanty towns of underclassmen housing, but it seems in college housing we’re doomed to live in a society where luxury is based upon terms of relative squalor. After all these years I guess I’m just going to embrace the mess until the Walsh floor wars erupt and I can express my resentment by seizing all the couches and chairs on my floor so I can sell them and afford the rent to live off campus like an adult and not have to get dirtier by taking a shower.