A truly student experience

As the door blows open, you enter the long hallway; the smell of Febreze lingers in the air. The rap music blaring from the end of the hallway lets you know that the youngest of the roommates is home, or at least was home at some point in the last 12 hours. A mangle of shoes is before you; your first of many obstacles to overcome on your way to experiencing all this apartment has to offer.

As you pass by the first room off of the long stretch of hallway, the sound of the Sopranos can be heard through the crack in the door; an impressive feat, considering that the rap music has not yet been turned off. This room, the largest of the three bedrooms, is reminiscent of a large beer fridge, cold and intended for boys. This is where another of the roommates resides. Strangely enough, it appears to be the tidiest of all…floor space can be deceptive.

The kitchen smacks of a classier crowd then its current inhabitants. A grand fireplace surrounded by a gorgeous white mantle distracts your attention, albeit briefly, from the current state of the floor. Upon entering, you feet detect something sticky and you notice a large, unidentifiable stain on the carpet, reminiscent of one hell of a Super Bowl party. In the corner there is a clearance centre of empty beer bottles, the smell of yeast is almost overwhelming. The shrine to beer consumption sits stoically, awaiting some parental figure to cart them away. The masterpiece of the room, the mantel, is surrounded by a wide assortment of liquor bottles and Christmas lights, just to add some festive spirit. This is by far the best part of the whole apartment.

The bathroom shows faint indications that a female has attempted to make an impact, but the over-growth of whisker shavings around the sink indicate failure. Two electric razors sit idle by the sink, waiting for the next dumping of five o’clock shadows, combated by plush violet towels and scented soaps.

The room at the end of the hallway glows purple. Radioactive materials? Perhaps. But think back farther and you may recall the black light phenomena, a trend that is alive and well in this room. It is a standard boy’s room, heavily scented with cologne and dozens of dirty plates scattered on any flat, (or close to flat) surface available.

The only female room in this apartment leans towards the stereotype. Stuffed to capacity with an inordinate amount of clothes, passage into the room by the owner is difficult, nay impossible and requires a series of acrobatics to launch oneself successfully from the doorway to the bed. It is by far the warmest room in the house and personal touches have been added throughout the room. The room has a sweet perfume smell and the bed is welcoming, with plush comforters, blankets and pillows. It is also the smallest of the three bedrooms, which is why the closet at the end of the hallway houses all of the shoes that would be lost in this mess of a room.

This is a great student apartment. It provides the setting for anecdotes which we will remember fondly as we mature, eventually.

My mother's trashy experience

On the first day of university summer break my mother arrived home to Glace Bay, Cape Breton with all of her worldly belongings in tow. Among other things this included her six pairs of jeans that she had carried home in an old, beat-up garbage bag. She decided to save unpacking for later and sat down to relax after a long, hard year of studies. This is the legendary story of my mother and the determination that led her to the dump.

She settled in to have some good homemade food and relaxed for the rest of the day. It was not until the next morning that she decided it might be a good time to unload her belongings when she noticed that her trusty garbage bag was not where she had left it. After scouring the house for twenty-minutes, a sickening feeling started to develop in the pit of her stomach. Had she heard the garbage truck this morning? Would someone have actually thrown away her prized jeans?

A hasty ten minute drive landed her square in the middle of the Glace Bay dump…and in the middle of the search of her life. It was one of the more entertaining days for the garbage men as they gathered to watch this mad women searching through dirty diapers and yesterdays left-overs.

She searched for hours without thinking anything of it. Using addresses on pizza boxes she slowly narrowed her search first to the right area of town and finally the right street. In the heat, with garbage men staring at her and with her mother disapprovingly waiting at home, my mother found that one garbage bag in a heap of thousands. She will tell you today she would do it again in a second. As she often comments jeans were a hot commodity then and unlike today, people did not own a pair of jeans for every occasion.

It was a day that most would never mention again for the rest of their lives. It is a day that I have heard about more often then I care to mention, because this is a story of determination and succeeding when everything is against you.