LIFESTYLE: Home on the Strange

"We feel there are no bad accommodations but there is a lot of variation," said Gigi Simeone, director of Residential Living. That view seems fanciful when each student with a room that causes swelling envy is measured against all others, whose only consolation is a pat on the back and a reminder that there is always next year. Engineering freshman Robert Wong and Wharton freshman Michael Fieldstone fall into the former group. They hit the jackpot when they were assigned the only room in the Quadrangle with a private bathroom. "I'm totally jealous of their situation. Every time I have to go to the bathroom I have to run all the way down the hall," said friend and neighbor Kevin Gifford, a Wharton freshman. Getting the room doesn't require having an uncle named Annenberg. In fact, their room was distributed by lottery like every other. "The computer matches housing applicants to the room randomly," said Simeone. When they walked into the room they were pleasantly surprised by the bathroom but were completely oblivious of its unique status. "When we found out, we were shocked," said Wong. "It's become a trademark that branded us." "The bathroom is very convenient since the closest male bathroom is a floor above. That is, except for when we run out of toilet paper." The bathroom (with shower) which adjoins their room has taken on several additional functions. "We use it as a kitchen, for storage and even as a weight room," Fieldstone said. Wong tried to have the housekeeper add the bathroom to her daily rounds but all he got was a curt, "No, it's not part of my contract." · Not as fortunate were fellow freshmen Doug Jackson, in the College, and Justin Ginnetti, in Engineering. They ended up on the first floor of Hill House, which was made worse by an unbearable heat problem. For unexplained architectural reasons, a water heating pipe runs right underneath their room, increasing the room temperature by close to 25 degrees. "At times, it's impossible to stand on the floor with bare feet," Ginnetti said. For the first couple weeks of September – even with three fans running full blast and the windows open – the heat was still overwhelming. "It was hot as hell and we couldn't sleep. We just kept tossing and turning in pools of our sweat," said Ginnetti. "I thought we had very little circulation," commented next door neighbor Nick May, "but their room was a sauna." During the winter, though, Ginnetti is optimistic they'll get their payoff when the room becomes cozy and "the women flock for warmth." In the meantime they must deal with the frustration of returning to their room after a cold shower only to start immediately sweating. Complaints to Steve Feld, head resident of Hill House, went unheeded, and they've become resigned to the status quo. "The least he could have done was come over and apologize – but nothing," Ginnetti said. Feld, when contacted, however, was surprised that such a situation exists. "This is news to me," Feld said. "At Hill House we try to be as responsive as possible, and I'm going to check into it." · For Heather Villari, a College junior, luck and abnormal circumstances together contributed to what she considers an ideal living arrangement. She lives in a four-person, three-bedroom suite in High Rise South all by herself. "Sometimes when I'm in a room and I get tired I won't walk all the way to my bedroom I'll just plop down on the nearest bed," said Villari. Managing to end up in such solitary bliss required a fortuitous set of events. "Originally, I was supposed to live off-campus with my roommate from last year but that never materialized," Villari said. "So by the time we applied to Residential Living, room selection had already taken place and we were given a quadruple to ourselves." When Villari's roommate dropped out of school she was left by herself. "I kept calling all summer to see if I had been given new roommates and they kept saying, 'It's just you,'" Villari said. "I guess with me as a smoker and the suite not having cable and being right next the R.A. made it lack appeal," she added, " but that suits me fine." The inordinate amount of space allows her to devote whole rooms to singular purposes. One extra bedroom stands as a monument to the rock group Phish, which she's fanatic about. Band paraphernalia is everywhere, and the walls are covered with their pictures and tickets from their concerts. "I use the room as a place to escape. I listen to the music and just totally chill out," she said. Since she is a fine arts major, Villari designated another bedroom's sole use for art purposes. All the necessary tools she needs to work on her drawings and paintings sit neatly across the desk. The room is even decorated with some of her previous works. "The atmosphere allows me to create, it really helps that I don't feel cramped, and I feel it's reflected in my work," Villari said. Loneliness would seem to be a factor to contend with, but Villari says it hasn't been a problem. "I have a lot of work this year and this set-up allows me to focus on my studies, so I don't have time to worry about being alone." At the other extreme is Ken Kitkowski. An Engineering senior, he found himself last year focusing on having a good time at the expense of everything else. His West Philadelphia off-campus house became a haven of hedonism. "We took a no prisoners approach to partying," Kitkowski said. "We were the after-after-party still raging at 5 a.m." This atmosphere, however, did not lend itself to maintaining any sort of balanced lifestyle. "It was not a healthy experience physically, mentally, or academically – but don't get me wrong, it was fun," he said. This modus vivendi bred apathy and indifference toward any basic sanitary standards in the 12-bedroom, 13-person house where on any given night between five and 30 guests would crash. "Everyone was into there own thing, and basically no one gave a shit," said Kitkowski. Throwing out garbage became taboo, so trash would pile up all over the place, he said. Towering piles of pizza boxes, empty kegs from wild parties months before, and moldy food remnants littering the floor created a constant eye-(and nose)sore. The odor could become unbearably noxious, Kitkowski said, "but we got used to it." The breaking point, Kitkowski said, was when he stepped into an ankle-deep pile of chicken wing bones in the TV room. Appalled by these conditions, he demanded that the house hire a cleaning person. "This helped somewhat, but the house was still never close to being remotely clean," said Kitkowski. It comes as little surprise that barely any of their security deposit was returned even after the clean up and damage charges had been assessed. · The pressure cooker world of academia and social events creates much stress which rarely finds an outlet. College junior Jacki Torshen and her 12 housemates may have paid extra for their off-campus residence, but they did get a top-notch tension reliever. Right off their front entrance is a room with a high-powered jacuzzi that can fit up to eight people. "After a long day of intense work there is nothing like chilling out in the tub," said Torshen. The jacuzzi was so popular in the first couple of weeks that guidelines had to be instituted concerning how often it could be used. The leisure pursuit necessitated a new addition to the house lexicon. "Everyone's like, 'Ya wanna jacuzze,'" she said, "so we just created a verb form for our favorite type of recreation." · For College senior Rob Berger, the first couple weeks of school were spent entrenched in a quagmire of housing bureaucracy. A leap into a jacuzzi would have been a welcome relief. The off-campus house he moved into had been sublet over the summer to tenants who jumped town and shirked paying any of the utility bills. So, the utilities were all turned off. "When I walked into the house it was pitch dark, so I just dumped all my stuff and headed over to a friend's," said Berger. It wasn't until a week later that the electricity was turned on and the residence became inhabitable. Berger and his buddies were in for another surprise when they approached the fridge only to be repelled by the smell of its rotting contents. "We had building maintenance come down and clean it out, and I actually felt bad for the workers because it was 'Health Code' kind of bad," he said. "I would warn those looking for housing in the future to make sure everything is in order before moving in," he said. "It's just not worth the hassle."