NORTH CAMPUS–During a wave of midnight calls to RAs following freshmen locking themselves out of their rooms, one new student’s innovation has impressed residential staff campuswide by managing to lock themselves inside their room.
“Honestly, this is just impressive,” remarked James Lansing ‘23, an RA in the new Ruth Bader Ginsburg Hall. “We’ve had hundreds of lockouts so far this year, and you get to the point where it all blends together. A kid forgets their keys going for a shower, they leave their card in their room to get dinner, been there done that. But this is straight up befuddling. How did she get into her room and then lock herself in? Did she slide the keys out under the door? Why does her door even lock from the outside in the first place?! ”
After several hours seeking guidance from building care and maintenance staff, the University concluded that the lock-in was the result of a door lock being accidentally installed inside-out. Anyone could open the door from the outside, but the inside would lock automatically unless the user disengaged the lock intentionally, a feature Housing and Residential Life described as “unique.”
“I’m telling you I didn’t do anything wrong,” insisted Alana Daniels ‘26. “I followed the signs and I made sure to carefully follow the rules my RA gave me, and I always have my keys with me unless I’m in my room or I think of something cooler to carry through the dorms like a massive bottle of Smirnoff. But apparently that wasn’t enough! I’m sick of these RAs treating freshmen like some kind of burden. All they have to do is repeatedly show us how to use doors, clean up after us in the bathrooms, and help us make friends, but they act like they’re our mothers or something.”
Five minutes after the door was fixed by maintenance, Daniels called her RA to report a lockout and request a temporary access card.
LOW RISE SEVEN—The University Housing Department faced criticism this past week for their rapid action regarding rodents in Ganędagǫ: Hall as they continued to ignore the rampant infestation of bloodsucking vampire bats throughout Low Rise 7. The host of flighted mammals have reportedly occupied the dilapidated residence hall for several months without any university intervention.
“It’s getting pretty hairy over here,” explained Low Rise 7 resident Martin Beale ‘25, wielding a broomstick to defend himself from the dorm’s winged invaders. “I’ve tried filing maintenance requests, but I can’t even find ‘Low Rise 7’ in the list of serviceable regions. So for now we have to adapt, just like with the dorm’s other quirks; I take hair out of the shower drain with a tiny rake, I leave my door shut to keep in heat, and I wear a motorcycle helmet to sleep so that the bats don’t bite me in the face.”
The university has been quick to address issues in other dorms, but remains negligent to their unwanted middle child of a residence hall. While a quick and thorough statement was made regarding the string of arsons last semester, no comment was made a week earlier when a mad scientist attempted to turn all of the Low Rise 7 residents into duck-people.
“Actually, the bats are fine,” stated a noticeably paler Beale, wrapped in a large red cloak. “The real issue on campus is the garlic bread. It’s everywhere, and it’s vile. Forget about the bats, no really, forget them, and get rid of that damnable garlic abomination.”
At press time, all of the shades in Low Rise 7 had been drawn, and a host of residents were seen outside of Low Rise 6 asking for permission to enter the premises.
MARY DONLON HALL– Faced with the prospect of returning home for the holidays with nothing to show for himself except a D- in his FWS, the most downvoted post in Cornell Reddit history, and a prematurely receding hairline, Jason Wincherly ‘25 was spared four weeks of his parents’ disappointed silence when he was suddenly hit by an old memory of his parents expressing pride in “arson.”
“It’s weird that my parents would like arson so much, but I guess my dad’s proud of anything that isn’t me, huh?” said Wincherly, trying to pass off his lifelong emotional neglect as a lighthearted joke. Armed with lighter fluid, a BIC lighter stolen from the roommate that stole his girlfriend, and a pathological inferiority complex, he then snuck into Ganedago Hall and set what police chief David Honan would refer to in that morning’s crime alert as “the most disappointing fire of all time.”
Having blazed up the prime trophy that is Ganedago Hall’s winter move out checklist, Wincherely realized that it would take the equivalent of the California wildfires to make up for his lifetime of insolvent bottom feeding. Increasingly desperate to prove himself, Wincherely set a second fire in Ganedago, only to discover the damage cost less than a single bottle of the wine his father drank to forget his disappointment of a son.
After twice failing to set campus ablaze, Wincherly realized that seeing pride in his father’s eyes was the one problem he couldn’t solve by copying off a smarter classmate, and instead settled for setting another one of his signature piss baby fires in Donlon Hall.
FUERTES OBSERVATORY – Emerging from hours of research using the large refracting telescope on North Campus, Cornell’s top astronomers report that tonight’s supermoon will be pretty big, and also probably really bright or whatever.
“It’s no total eclipse or transit of Venus or anything really cool, but it’ll be a nice little thing for the kids to check out,” said Professor of Astrophysics Saul Teukolsky, who on consulting his Farmers’ Almanac found there would also be a halfway-decent meteor shower occurring later this week.
“My ASTRO 1101 professor told us to check it out if we had time,” said Raquel Stevens ‘20, “but not to worry if we couldn’t, it’s just the moon.”
Students across campus have been planning their three minute study break to walk outside, look up at the sky and say, “Huh, pretty cool.”
NORTH CAMPUS — Citing evidence compiled from a poll of 2,564 seniors who have revisited North Campus since their Freshman year, a report published Tuesday by the Cornell University Survey Research Institute claims that, despite common perception, North Campus has not shrunk in size over the past three years.
According to the study, nearly 97 percent of all seniors revisiting North Campus and its adjacent areas will claim that the edifices in which the freshmen inhabit have in fact downsized since the three years that they themselves resided there. The actual measurements of the structures, however, have remained constant.
“I used to absolutely dread walking up the hill to Balch Arch, and the stairs leading up to the CKB Quad were the absolute worst. I wish they had been this small back when I was a freshman,” reflected Ellen Ladley erroneously on the immutable measurements of landscape and buildings.
The dramatic change in perception is apparently not found in seniors revisiting West Campus, although after living on West students are likely to believe that the slope sank at least two inches over the course of one academic year.