It’s that time of year again, when student suddenly turns against student in a frenzied dash for the few remaining decent places to live off-campus in Blacksburg.
I’ve had enough apartments rented out from under me to know that it’s definitely dog-eat-dog.
If you take the time to even think twice about throwing that guy who sits next to you in calc under the bus — You’re going to rent to that guy? Him? You do of course know that he set his last two apartments on fire trying to cook meth, right? — he’s probably already sitting in the office telling the same story about you.
Now, the ink’s drying on his lease for the sweet place with utilities included that you found right across the street from campus, and suddenly you find yourself homeless. And you don’t know the first thing about meth. You don’t even like “Breaking Bad.”
Well, hope springs eternal — there’s bound to be some people out there, leases signed and looking for roommates to help make rent, right?
I happened into my first experience with a roommate at the grand ol’ University of Notre Dame. When one arrives in South Bend for freshman orientation — in addition to being forced into all manner of awkward interactions generally involving water balloon fights with people you’ve never met and had no real intention of meeting — you are randomly assigned a room and a roommate.
My freshman year roommate was a nice Hawaiian fellow who mostly kept to himself and gave me delectable chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for my birthday. He also had less endearing habits, though, like using the dorm room’s communal sink for a urinal on nights when it was too cold to walk down the hall to the bathroom.
I found this out only from later reports and was mildly disconcerted, as I preferred to use our sink for bizarre rituals like brushing my teeth and rinsing my one pathetic Ramen bowl.