College Connections: Diverse residence situations alter college experiences

I was walking to my room in Voute Hall the other day when I passed my next-door neighbor. At least I'm going to assume that is who it was, because they walked out of the room next to mine. But the fact is, I don't have the first clue about anyone on my hall outside of my three-room corner (and we blocked together).

Housing has an interesting kind of cycle in college life - it begins and ends with cluelessness. Like the majority of freshmen, I grew up in suburbia and was never (un)fortunate enough to have a roommate of any sort, beside my family.

I remember the times I visited colleges during my junior and senior years of high school, having no idea what to expect, only to find a sort of cross between an apartment building (several rooms on each hall) and a prison (shared bathrooms).

Walking into Fitzpatrick my freshman year, like so many freshmen, I had two thoughts. One - I have no friends. Two - Why is this dorm so weird? Having never lived in a dorm before, I had to open myself up to all sorts of "new living" - roommates, noise in the hall, remembering a room code, etc. So in an effort to solve my first thought, and meet/Facebook-friend as many freshmen as possible, I started lapping the dorms. I remember making the obligatory stop in my room (Fitz four by the way) to drop my stuff and begin to unpack (a process that didn't end until probably November), then the obligatory goodbye to family, and then moving on to the obligatory walk down your hall. This involved knocking on basically every door and simply introducing yourself to your new neighbors.

Now as everyone remembers, because most all freshmen have this mentality, it is not at all weird to just start walking into random rooms and saying hi, leaving your door open all day to welcome others in, and so forth. Within the first two weeks of school, I do seriously think I could name 90 percent of the guys that lived in my hall. Gradually, the whole "open-door" policy started to fade away, but there remained that certain unique level of camaraderie between floormates.

Fast-forward to sophomore year (and for the sake of this section, we're going to make the ridiculous assumption that all sophomores, like me, were lucky and got eight-mans). I moved into Walsh with seven other guys, excited for the "common room and private bath" in our own suite.

While we knew the girls next door, since we blocked with them, we didn't know anyone else moving into the eighth floor. And I never did. In what amounted to a night-and-day difference from freshman year, the doors remained closed. Amazing what a social facilitator having to walk down the hall in your towel is.

As time went on in Walsh, I wondered if I'd ever have any of the friendly exchanges I experienced the previous year in Fitzpatrick. Short of my RA (and he basically got paid to be nice to me), I didn't. And the truth is, I didn't initiate anything either. Something about the "suite" set-up effectively killed dorm life as I had known it.

Fast-forward to junior year, first semester (and for the sake of this section, we're going to make the ridiculous assumption that all juniors, like me, got the ResLife shaft and had to force themselves into a "off-campus/sublet-because-I'm-going-abroad" situation. I moved into an apartment on Orkney, behind Cityside in Cleveland Circle - and it was like freshman year all over again. Paying bills? Cooking? Losing your key? Missing the Comm. Ave bus? These issues became the new "new stuff" that brought my hallmates and I together freshman year. I quickly became friendly with my fellow tenants and neighbors, and the semester continued with occasional visits to each other's apartments.

Fast-forward to junior year, second semester. I moved to China, into a very small dorm, a very small double, with very much no air-conditioning, with a very French roommate (who, on day one, announced he "didn't like to talk English"). Despite the odd living situation, going abroad was the best experience of college. But moving on…

Fast-forward to senior year, and I find myself back in Walsh status. There is nothing new, none of that "new-experience spark" to quite bring hallmates together quite like before. Walking down the hall brings no real friendly exchanges.

Of course, as I write this, I realize maybe everyone does know me … they just hate me because I play Rock Band at full volume all the time. Oh well - maybe next year, in the "real world," we'll rotate back.