You come home after a fantastic weekend evening, get into your PJ’s (with or without feet) and climb into bed. Just as you begin to doze off, your door creaks open and you open your eyes to watch a half naked stranger reeking of booze and cigarettes crawling under your covers. To make the situation even better, he seems more surprised than you and asks you why you’re in his bed.
He looks around the room, notices the abundance of pastel colors and fluffy comforters and realizes that this is not his room. Unfortunately for you, he confused room 232 with room 332.
I, myself, have been involved in similar situation, only I was the beer and cigarette smelling clown of a freshman who mistook a second floor girls’ room in Gonzaga as my own. Awkward? Just a bit. However, I refuse to blame myself. The fault should obviously be placed on the negligence of that poor, poor girl. All she had to do was lock her door.
After a night of drinking, the typical freshman male can barely tie his own shoes, much less put together a single rational thought. Responsibility? That’s a lot of syllables. Let’s face the freshman facts: you’re living within walking distance of 2,000 people you have known for the better part of two weeks. That nice little nursing major from New Jersey you met on Wednesday could very well be a raging kleptomaniac (this of course is purely imaginary, but would you really trust anyone from Jersey anyway?).
The bottom line is, lock your doors. The stories you hear about computers being stolen, ransacked rooms and random bed partners are very true. A close personal friend once woke when his neighbor climbed into his bed and passed out while muttering, “Mary Lou would not be proud.” Do you really want to subject yourself to a similar situation?
All it takes is a little physical exertion of pushing in a button on your door knob. For a group of kids who find no problem running up three flights of steps with a thirty of Busch Light in their backpacks, this shouldn’t be hard.
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