In which ex-freshman Parker Fishel imparts his first-year dorm wisdom.

Carman

There is a magnetism about Carman that tends to polarize its residents.

There are some that are fiercely loyal to the residence hall, almost to the point of confrontational. They will hear nothing of the overflowing trash bins and it's resulting stench, nor the overpowering debauched bacchanalia of the place. To them, this is just the ambiance and you couldn't get a better I'm in New York City! Freshman Year! No Parents! Let's Party! vibe anywhere else in the city (well, okay, probably at NYU, but those damn hipsters would never admit it).

The other sect of Carman's residents begin to reveal themselves progressively throughout the year, though never to fellow Carman-ites who would take the slightest hint of negativity as high treason. These are the kids who find the whole scene kind of, well, grotesque. You'll find them nesting in Butler, Lerner, anywhere that isn't Carman and when you ask them where they live they say "Carman" with reluctance.

But hey, to each their own.

I would, however, like to leave you with my favorite Carman anecdote. One Tuesday night, I was going up to a friend's on the 6^th floor to borrow an air mattress. In the elevator was a girl who looked a little weirded out; I soon found out why. On the floor of the elevator was a piece of toilet paper with smeared excrement on it (to put it nicely). I can't say whether this in particular was a common occurrence, but I can say that it was gross. Needless to say, I took the stairs back down.