Rochester Institute of Technology - Techmila / Ramikin Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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room when I heard a lot of commotion in the hall. When 1 looked out the door, there was Roger running up and down the hall screaming and crying and acting pretty generally beserk Somehow he got hold of a knife and it took three of us to get it away from him, 1 think Roger needed a following also. Later on that year, Roger's room- mate happened to mention that it had been quite a while since Roger had taken a shower, and the stench was getting unbearable. The five of us who were sitting in the lounge at the time were uncommonly bored, so maybe it’s more than coincidence that we all came up with the same idea, I supplied the Fab ' someone else got a broom and the RA let us into Roger's room. He put up quite a fight. In fact, we almost ended up dragging his bed into the shower with him, but a half an hour later, Roger didn't smell so bad anymore. Roger, 1 apologize for bring- ing back bad memories, During my freshman year 1 spent a lot of time at Colby D, which at that time was an all female floor. Colby D was the site of numerous strange and memorable experiences one of which was Manny Straus. Manny's sense of humor dominated his every activity, even when he was trying to be serious. Instead of smoking cigarettes, chewing gum or partaking in normal tension easing vices, Manny blew bubbles. He carried one of those little plastic bub- ble blowers with him constantly. He was quite good at it and it was not un- common to see a parade of bubbles emanating from his room, six floors up in one of the towers. My clearest recollection of Manny is on a night he wouldn't remember at all because of his total and complete intoxication, I was standing in the hall over at Colby D around 2:00 in the morning with a friend when this normally shy girl came running out of her room scream- ing that there was a man in her bed. 1 went back to her room to check out the situation, and there was Manny lying unconscious between her sheets The worst part about it was that Manny didn't even know the girl. He just hap- pened to wander in and pass out next to her. It was no use trying to wake him up so I carried Manny out into the lounge and attempted to get him onto one of the couches. Just as I was about to lower him onto a couch he struggled to get loose and I dropped him. When his head smacked against the arm of the couch I figured we wouldn't be hearing much more from Manny that nite, so I went to bed. The next morn- ing, I woke up to find that Manny had entered still another girl's room and again found a comfortable resting place between someone else's sheets. This time he found a much less hospitable hostess. He was literally picked up and thrown into the hall by the girl and her roommate, both of whom were of fairly large stature. Manny left RIT after his freshman year. His name still pops up in conver- sations from time to time. ?S

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DORMANT REVELATIONS ] moved out of the dorms two years ago. I had to do it for the sake of my psychological stability. Living in the dorms can do strange things to you. I should know because I lived in the dormitories for seven years. After the dilapidated, sunken cement halls of military school, 1 moved to the slightly less spacious, ivy-ridden halls of prep school And then came RIT. At first it was like staying at the Waldorf com- pared to the century old firetraps 1 was used to. But gradually, very gradually, I began to feel more and more like one of Skinner's rats. The proper name for RIT's style of architecture is Brutalism,” Indeed, the name ac- curately describes its effects on inhabi- tants. What follows are a few indica- tions of the strange and adverse effects that living in the RIT dormitories has had on some of my acquaintances and people that I have mistakenly come in contact with. As a freshman, the first and most outstanding example of adverse affec- tation I was introduced to was Richie Vial, Richie was a 24 year-old Criminal Justice major who peddled a lot of dope and had fun blowing the money he inherited on such things as new cars and color T V sets. But with all his money, he still lived in the dorms. I think he needed a following. Richie was famous for knocking on doors in the early hours of the morning with a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps in his back pocket and plenty of dope to share. Richie was also an accomplished tennis player, but he rarely played when he wasn't speeding. One of the best stories that Richie ever told me was about Fat Patty.'' It seems that Fat Patty'' was a girl from MCC who just happened to be the willing recipient of an obscene phone call one night. That same night she visited RIT and took on 17 guys from one floor. 1 didn't believe the story until Richie showed me his photo album. Richie went on to explain Patty's most memorable feat at one on the frat houses where she experienced 34 guys in one night , . non-stop. The next morning WITR devoted an entire day of broadcasting to her. It's rumored that 'Fat Patty” was a virgin before she set foot on the RIT campus, but 1 have no way of verifying that. I'm not really sure whatever became of Fat Patty” but the last time I saw Richie was when he visited ‘ The Cellar one night. At that time he had transferred to some community college where he was living by himself in an apartment. Miraculously, he seemed to be recovering from a too long stay in the RIT dormitories, Down the hall from Richie was Roger. Roger is graduating from RIT this year, so I'll go easy on him. If you're reading this Roger, make sure your parents never see it, Roger is a somewhat homely kid who must have led a sheltered life before coming to college. Every floor has someone who always gets picked on and on the 9th floor of Sol Heumann, that someone was Roger. 1 can remember one night early in the year when Roger drank a quart of vodka. I was in a friend's 25

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H0LZEM6R Another fairly well known character around Colby D, was known not by name only but by such nicknames as The Perv, Sicko, etc. This boy had a problem. At the end of the hall at Colby D there is a large window which directly faces another window in the stairwell of Kate Gleason Hall. Early in the morning, just as everyone at Colby D was rolling out of bed and into the bathroom, The Perv could often be found peering through the window in the stairwell of Gleason masturbating in full view of all who were in the hall over at Colby D. He was reported a number of times and finally caught. I hope he was given the psychiatric help he needed rather than getting dis- missed from school. As long as we're on the subject of demented individuals, I might as well mention another occurrence which I witnessed with astonishment during my freshman year. I was walking with a few friends towards Grace Watson at some ungodly early hour when we witnessed a small flame near the sun dial. In seconds, the sun dial was totally ablaze. As we got closer, we saw a very strange looking guy in a bathrobe and shower sandals. He was burning some sort of sheet that he had apparently drenched in gasoline and hung from the sun-dial. 1 didn't recognize the person, and I'm sure 1 wouldn't if 1 ever saw him again, but he had the sort of smile on his face that you would expect to find on an old man at a porno movie. In my sophomore year I moved to the 2nd floor of Sol Heumann, but I still frequented my old floor when I got bored. On one visit upstairs 1 found my roommate from the previous year and a friend of his try- ing to locate the phone number for the poison control center. They weren’t really alarmed . . . just concerned. Earlier that day they made two batches of brownies. One was your normal Betty crocker variety and the other contained an entire box of chocolated Ex-lax.” They offered the ”Ex-lax brownies to anybody who happened to stroll into their room, while they munched on the normal brownies. Un- fortunately, one particular passer-by was qu ite hungry and ate abou 170% of the spiked brownies. It was even more unfortunate that this same individual who's name nobody can seem to remember, ate one of Campi's famous steak bomber's before eating the brownies. If you've ever eaten a Campi's steak bomber, you know about their extra cleaning” power. Add that to an entire box of Ex-lax and you realize the need to find out the number of the Poison Control Center. Reflecting back on these once forgotten memories has led to a single conclusion; it's difficult to live in the dormitories for any length of time without becoming subject to at least a minimal degree of derangement. I myself feel as though 1 have recovered . , , others never will. —MARK FELTON