At this point, I feel like Barnard Reslife is in a constant war with the Barnard students over working laundry machines, habitable temperatures, and literally anything you would expect from a dorm. But the absolute tomfoolery that they pulled today takes the cake. Today marks the first day of winter break, the first day of freedom, but unlike our friends across the street, we got to celebrate by being promptly kicked out of our dorms at 9 AM.
Their doing this particularly irks me for two reasons. Barnard Reslife gave everyone else 24 hours to vacate their rooms following their exams earlier this week. My last exam ended at 6 PM. Therefore, I only had fifteen hours to vacate my room. In that time, did they really expect me to do everything on their winter break checkout list? Spoiler alert: I did not do everything asked.
Additionally, the 9 AM deadline is completely arbitrary. Those moving to Plimpton for winter housing do not need to leave their current housing until December 23rd, so there will still be security guards manning the desks. And the RAs don’t leave until 5 PM. I could easily be in bed right now waiting for my 8 PM flight rather than angrily writing this in Starbucks.
I thought I would share my comically annoying fifteen hours before eviction.
5:49 PM: I am free! I have just finished my last final of the semester. I walk outside the exam room and see my two friends and fellow Bwoggers waiting for me. We all hug and scream to celebrate our freedom. Life is good.
5:52 PM: Life is less good. It is dark outside and raining. My fellow Bwogger and I must make the trek from north campus to John Jay to have our last Columbia dining feast of the semester. Vegan beef burritos and cheesecake for all (who were as misfortunate as us to still be on campus)!
6:45 PM: We trudge back across Broadway to begin power cleaning our rooms, but to no one’s surprise, I lay in bed for an hour and watch YouTube videos instead. Can you blame me? I just took a final.
7:57 PM: I take my sheets and towels to my floor’s laundry room. This starts the Laundry Wars. There are no machines available on my floor. I go to the floor above me. Again, no machines. I go up to the eighth floor of the quad. I strike gold. Someone is taking her clothes out of two machines. I claim them.
8:31 PM: I come back to the laundry room and half of the dryers are done drying but no one has come to claim their clothes. I am not here to play games. I am not here to make friends. I move someone’s clothes out of the dryer. To whoever that was: set a timer next time. I then put my clothes in the washer.
9:00 PM: I return to move my soaked clothes to a dryer. Someone else claims the last empty dryer just seconds before I get there. I cry in anguish. After checking for machines on four different floors, I strike luck on the fourth floor.
9:12 PM: I arrive on the fourth floor. There are two dryers: one is in use and one has just finished. Someone is removing their clothes from said empty dryer and someone else is removing their clothes from a washer. I am about to give up when I see the person removing their soaking clothes and putting them into their hamper rather than the empty washer.
Me: “Are you going to use that dryer?”
Them (looking at me like I’m insane): “What? No! Why would I use the dryer?”
Me: (confused, looking at her soaked socks and T-shirts): “Are you sure you’re not gonna use that empty dryer?”
Them (getting increasingly pissed off for some reason): “Yes, I’m sure!”
They scoff at me and take their wet clothes down the hall and into their dorm room. I am confused and weirded out, but at least I finally have a dryer.
11:00 PM: I got all of my clothes, towels, and sheets out of the dryer.
11:08 PM: Everyone has their flaws, myself included. I am tired. I want to go home and revert to my high school freshman self. I lay in bed for an hour watching Twilight: New Moon.
12:31 AM: I have not started packing. Why do I do this to myself? How am I going to fit all of my clothes into a carry-on?
12:57 AM: I take my final shower in the dorms for the year of 2018. For the last time, I smell the distinct smell of New York City water. For the last time, I view the hair tastefully adorning the shower walls. For the last time, I watch the shower water pool at my feet due to the clogged drain. For the last time, I squeak back to my dorm room in my shower shoes.
1:12 AM: I’m still not done packing. I throw random items into my bag. Hopefully, this will work.
1:31 AM: I look at the random items littered on the floor of my room and the clothes I ordered online that I intended to return. Fuck it. I’ll deal with it when I return.
1:36 AM: I turn off the lights.
1:56 AM: I put down my phone.
6:21 AM (or something): SIRENS wake me up. Are you kidding? After laying in confusion for a minute, I realize it’s the fire alarm. I always forget it’s the fire alarm. I always think its a tornado warning.
6:22 AM: It’s too early for this.
6:23 AM: I get out of bed and put on my coat. I rationalize that I have survived this semester, I am not going down now.
6:25 AM: Pissed off quad residents barrel down the stairwell in their pajamas and shower shoes.
6:28 AM: We are herded into Barnard Hall. I text my mom to complain. She tells me to suck it up.
6:33 AM: Fire trucks arrive. Someone is playing Mo Bamba somewhere in Barnard Hall. Have they no mercy?
6:44 AM: I’m walking back to my room. Here are some tidbits I overheard:
“We’re literally getting kicked out two and a half hours early.”
“I contemplated just grabbing my suitcase and leaving when the alarms went off.”
“I feel like Barnard was like ‘how do we get everyone out of the building by 9 AM’ and they figured this was the most efficient answer.”
6:47 AM: I go back to sleep and change my alarm from 7:35 AM to 8:10 AM.
8:10 AM: I press snooze.
8:18 AM: I press snooze again.
8:22 AM: I am woken up by someone running down my hall yelling “It’s 9 AM, get up, get out! It’s 9 AM, get up, get out!” over and over. I panic and reach for my phone and look at the time. I am being bamboozled again.
8:52 AM: All of my stuff is packed and I leave the quad. Til next year, you beautiful disaster.