House Quest V: Tokyo Drift

Hahaha! Isn't this funny? He has the same name as where people live!

As you may remember, I, along with my friends Jeff and Josh, have been in feverish pursuit of someplace to live next year, and we’ve been consistently thwarted by the fact that nothing we’ve looked at has struck our fancy, piqued our interest, or blown up our collective skirt. Each one of us is picky in our own way: Josh, the resident Adrian Monk, finds inherent fault in anything that is dirty, has been dirty, or will be dirty at some point in the near future; Jeff, an architecture major, has a knack for pointing out dangerous architectural flaws in our proposed dwellings; and I, Truman Capps, refuse to live in any house that isn’t exactly like Tony Stark’s house in Iron Man, complete with robots and Gwyneth Paltrow.

However, some time ago, we all came to the conclusion that we either had to compromise, live on the streets, or succumb to that most unimaginable of horrors: Living in the dorms again. Now, I’m sure that if you’re a college student the dormitories at your school aren’t quite ghetto-fabulous. You’re probably sharing a bathroom with people who would rather die than attempt to aim their pee, and climate control probably leaves something to be desired, and maybe the food isn’t exactly Emril quality. However, your living situation is not nearly as bad as the living situation at the University of Oregon, because while the housing department at your school may simply not care about you, the housing department at the University of Oregon actively loathes all of its residents. No, forgive me, this statement is unfair to University of Oregon Housing – they don’t hate the residents only, they hate all humans in existence. The director of our board of housing has aligned his soul with the dark gods of Chaos, and in their service he is relentlessly driven to completely and utterly RF the bejeezus out of everything that breathes. Why, yes, there is a loading dock right outside my window, and yes, food service trucks do make loud beeping noises when they back up there at 6:00 every morning. And yes, over the past three weeks construction crews have been demolishing the building across from my dorm, with work starting at about 8:00 every morning. And it’s also true that from time to time I’ll just throw the food they serve us into the toilet in order to save it the trouble of spending five minutes inside my body. However, no matter how bad it is right now is a mere preview of how bad it will be next year, for the housing department has promised beds to 6000 incoming freshmen when the dormitories right now only have room for 3500. Next year’s freshmen, who will be paying thousands of dollars for a dormitory, may well wind up sleeping in lounges. RAs will have roommates. I predict early morning knife fights over bathroom stalls and long lines to smoke pot in the shower. Why would the housing department do this? Because, my friends, Chaos is a seductive and persuasive mistress. Also, the housing department is run by morons.

Faced with living conditions somewhat akin to the Tokyo subway, my friends and I lowered our standards and have put down safety deposits on a quad unit across the street from campus. A quad unit, for those of you out of the bargain basement housing loop, is a series of four rooms surrounding a common kitchen and shower. Each room has its own sink and toilet, plus two doors – one leading outside, and one leading into the shared kitchen. Each room is rented individually to each tenant as a bedroom, and the three of us are splitting the cost of the fourth room so that we can use it as a TV room/swimming pool (bear with me – it’s going to be awesome). At first, we were somewhat reluctant to get a quad, as most of the quads we’ve seen are about as aesthetically pleasing as Richard Nixon, and twice as dirty. Right now, the quads we’re going to live in next year still have all the warmth and livability of our 37th president, but we’re rationalizing the decision by reminding ourselves that the quads are going to be remodeled over the summer, and we have been assured that by the time we move in, every room will sparkle with a beauty and charisma reminiscent of JFK, or at least a young Chester Arthur. We sat transfixed in the cramped and dim rental office as Kimberly the Landlady, her eyes sparkling with excitement, spun us breathtaking tales of granite countertops and hardwood floors, of wall mounted flatscreen TVs and brand new furnishing packages (one of which includes robots and Gweneth Paltrow).

What’s wrong with the place? Well, for one thing, I’m going to be a tenant, so there goes the neighborhood, I guess. Also, the complex is situated between a fraternity and a sorority, so we’ll have yet another chance to listen to drunk people belching and, what’s worse, Kanye West, but on the plus side we get to watch the girls doing the Walk of Shame the next morning. Also, the complex is roughly two blocks away from one of the largest hospitals in the city, so if you’re injured anywhere in or around Eugene, Oregon, you can bet I’ll hear the ambulance going out to pick you up, and also coming back. Make a point of not getting hurt late at night, asshole.

Is it absolutely ideal? No. But that’s not really the point; we’re just a bunch of college students looking for a place to live that isn’t infested by as-yet undocumented breeds of wood tick. It’s just a place to sleep when we’re not in class. None of us are planning to raise a family there – I’d love to, but I haven’t been on a date in about a year and as a journalism major I doubt I’ll ever be able to pay for the place without my Dad’s assistance, so it’s probably not going to happen.

Truman Capps is worried that he won't be able to fall asleep at night if there isn't someone near him is puking up cheap beer.