Morriss, of course.
Since I do not have swipe access to Morriss, I relied on an informant whom I’ll call Brendan (because that is his name) to get me into the building.
As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew that Morriss was different. Maybe it was the cinderblock walls, maybe it was the fly infestation (Brendan said some kids threw trash down an inactive trash shoot), but something about the place just made me feel comfortable. I know it sounds crazy, but even though I’d never been in Morriss before, I felt like I was home.
Morriss is not for the faint of heart or weak of body. The doors are remarkably heavy and the door handles often stick out at unconventional angles, demanding both strength and mental dexterity on the part of whoever is opening the door. “Of course,” I said to myself, “this is why everyone who lives in Morriss is so smart and strong.”
As soon as I entered the kitchen I understood why Morriss fosters such a tight community. It was like someone had shrunk a normal-sized kitchen to half its size, how cute is that! It was so small that if two people tried to cook at the same time, they’d have to talk to each other or else it would just be really awkward. “Of course,” I said to myself. “This is why everyone in Morriss forms sincere and lasting friendships.”
The best thing about the kitchen, though, is that the washing machine and drier are in a closet next to the stove, so you can could cook while waiting for your laundry. How convenient!
And guess what: They’ve got bathtubs.
After I heard that I was about ready to move in.
Brendan and Chiara, Morriss guide #2, took me downstairs to the crown jewel of the Morriss Kingdom: The first floor lounge. The lounge’s high ceiling and majestic windows are reminiscent of an Arthurian throne room, but the ripped furniture and the boarded-up fireplace give the place a homie feel. The room has only about four chairs, which teaches Morriss residents how to share, a lesson that is totally lost on degenerate Andrews kids like myself who think chairs just grow on trees. “Of course,” I said to myself. “This is why Morrissians are generally of stronger moral fiber than other first-years.”
The wonders continued as I explored the Morriss lounge. For one, it has a television. Yup. It’s a classic TV, like the one your seventh grade teacher wheeled in on a rolling desk to show your class an educational VHS about sex. Of course the TV doesn’t actually work, but it emits a pleasant shrieking noise when you press the “On” button.
Morrissians know they are privileged. But they are not arrogant. Morrissians are remarkably humble and constantly check their privilege. For example, a large photograph of Andrews Residence Hall hangs on the wall in the lounge, reminding all Morriss residents that not all students are as fortunate as they are.
Images via Ari Snider ’18.