As many underclassmen are no doubt already researching senior-year housing to avoid a last-minute lease on a tent in Mishawaka, I thought I'd let you in on my secret recipe for the ideal off-campus house roommate cast.
The Train Wreck: Every house needs a go-to disaster of a human being. Ideally, he hasn't gone to a morning class in weeks and can be found on any given Wednesday night throwing back slices of Vesuvios as if they were Tic-Tacs. He's always down to darty and is usually a good life-low benchmark.
The Monk: You need one roommate who you never see because he doesn't leave his room. He's always down to play Madden for upwards of seven consecutive hours, and offers a pleasant surprise when he chooses to go out, or to leave his cave at all.
The Wild Card: While houses are often amalgamations of guys from a given dorm (or marsupials from a noted elite West Quad luxury palace), if you really want to mix things up, bring in a rando from another dorm. He has different friends, different carried-over dorm traditions, can act too cool for your old dorm friends and is always available to gang up on when you're feeling low.
The Scrooge: You need one roommate who labels food and reminds you to turn off the lights when you leave your room. He may not seem like the most fun cast mate, but he'll keep things relatively in control and force you to begin acting like quasi-adults. And when he does go out with you it'll feel like a JPW de ja vu.
The Academic: It's midnight on a Thursday. Most of the cast mates have gone to expel their dignity on the floor at Club Fever. Back at the House, one light is on. The Academic is toiling away. He'll be there to pick you up at close, and to remind you how much work he still has to do before going to sleep. He'll be there senior year after you've locked down that job offer to remind you that you still have to actually graduate. An infatuation with ultimate frisbee is a nonessential bonus (curse).
The Glue: The common social connector of the house, the Glue forced this motley crew under one roof. When the Scrooge has to remind the Train Wreck to heed the "clean me after use" label on the Foreman Grill, the Glue is there to hear each one complain about the other behind their respective backs.
Recipe modifications: Add as much as you can stomach.
The Seventh "Roommate": That one guy - or Lyons Hall resident - who is just like a roommate except for the rent thing. She compensates for this by cleaning your dishes.
So there you are boys: The recipe for the perfect(?) senior-year house.
Contact John Cameron at
jcamero2@nd.edu
The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
