It’s that time of year again when I have to decide whether or not I want to live in the dorms. And let me tell you, the thought of tearing up that housing contract and moving to somewhere a little more habitable like a Bosnian war zone has never, ever crossed my mind. Possibly because the guy down the hall is constantly playing Ja Rule at a bass level high enough to disintegrate any thoughts I might have, as well as knock satellites out of Russian airspace.

But really, I am feeling pretty upbeat at the possibility of living in the dorms for a fourth year. The distance to campus can’t be beat, and I haven’t encountered any cockroaches bigger than Cael Sanderson yet. The hall directors are usually pretty good about not evicting you, unless you do something crazy like drink, smoke, violate quiet hours, light a candle, etc. Of course, if your roommate has a boy/girlfriend, you have to plan ahead on sleeping in the hallway, which is easy to do after you’ve fought off the cockroaches and the wandering drunk people who want to use you as a urinal cake.

I know people think it’s a little lame to be in the dorms for four years. I asked a friend if he was staying in the dorms next year. He replied, “No, I think it’s time I grew up.” Huh? I haven’t rented my own apartment yet, but I’m pretty sure that if I did, I wouldn’t get to deal with mature situations such as when the guy down the hall leaves a brown “toilet tubby” in the shower, in the sink, in the water fountain, outside your door, etc.

And where else but the dorms can you be randomly assigned to live with such fascinating people? You know those folks who fight with foam weapons out in front of the library?

Well, my roommate started that, and I am reminded of that amazing fact every day as I have to avoid being impaled on a foam sword just to get out of bed. I know people think he’s a little insane. Before the year began, my mom worried about the possibility of him hurting me. Unfortunately, for someone with so many weapons, he is disappointingly sane and responsible. If he were to start a drunken shotgun-wielding club, he’d wait at least a few weeks into the semester before trying to shoot beer cans off my head. But my point is that if I had decided to move out of the dorms last year, I would’ve missed out on the wonderful opportunity of being hit by a foam battle axe.

Now I know Randy Alexander, director of the Department of Residence, has gotten a bad rap recently because of some of his tightwad policies. For example, there is talk about putting regulation lofts in so students can pay even more money for less room. And then there is his belief that if condoms were sold in the dorms, a massive sexual revolution would suddenly break out in the dorms and send a negative message to his constituents, such as the Board of Regents and families.

Well, the Board of Regents has a great record of ignoring students on everything, so I’m willing to bet that we could perform a live re-enactment of Sodom and Gomorrah at their next meeting without them even noticing, unless it somehow interfered with their usual business of raising tuition. However, I do agree with most of Alexander’s reasoning. I say this because I did some intensive journalistic research, which involved going online and asking my friends, “Hey, can you help me with my column?”

My friend Luke, who is an RA at Boston University, was happy to tell me a story about dorm life. We both agree that being able to hear stories like this is definitely worth the $30,000 tuition he has to pay. But since this newspaper is distributed in Randy Alexander’s family-friendly dorms, I will be very careful in how I retell this story.

One night, a young Boston University couple decided to do the very family-friendly act of making babies on their top loft. Unfortunately, this loft – which I hope for our sake was not the type our DOR plans to use next year – could not handle this act of love. So it collapsed. No one was seriously hurt from the fall, but as Luke puts it, muscles contract during panic, including the muscles down there. To make the story short, it became immediately clear that “withdrawal” would not be a contraceptive option. Instead, the couple had to be carried out, on a stretcher, still in the family-friendly position. Someone draped a sheet over the couple to protect their last shred of dignity-until Newton’s Law of Bedsheets and Gravity caused the sheet to slip off on the way to the ambulance outside.

This is a tragic story and there are some deep reflections we must make after laughing our faces off. The most obvious is that no matter how many condoms you free-love hippies want to store in the dorms, this is one accident that only old-fashioned abstinence would’ve prevented.

Also, having the DOR provide lofts is a sensible idea – if something like this happens, we can at least sue them for enough money to buy back our dignity. Finally, for those of you considering moving out of the dorms, how can you even think of leaving when great events like this can happen – especially to the guy down the hall?

Dan Nguyen is a senior in computer engineering and journalism and mass communication from Iowa City.