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In This Issue

• Tom's Restaraunt
• Morningside Heights: Like NYC, But Not
• Letters to the Feditor
• Fed Guide to Internships
• CUicide and You
• Advisors? Who Needs 'Em?
• Housing and Dining Fun Quiz
• Attack of the Killer Barnard Blowjob
• Adventures in the John Jay Elevator
• If You Don't Smoke, We Won't Think You're Cool
• LERNER DELENDA EST
• Piss Off/On Your Roommate
• Fun With Fu!
• Guide to Your Columbia Nervous Breakdown
• THEY WATCH
• Comic - Stickman Theatre's Political Explosion

We're going to the West End now, kid, scurry along or you'll have no friends, and no one will stop raccoons from eating your mattress when you're at JJ's place!" Does this sound familiar? To anyone who's ever been a first-year, this is the anxious sound of floor exclusivity.

So, first-year, you've made some friends on your floor. Great. You needed some friends, and making friends is such hard work. Aren't you glad that's over with? Soon enough, though, rather than expend any more energy on additional friend-making, you will hang out with them until you'd rather be violated with a chicken a-la Pink Flamingos than look at another floorie's ass-face ever again. In short, you'll need some time off. But where to turn? Therein lies the problem. Marrying your floor is a trap many freshies fall into; the honeymoon period is great, but once you've effectively isolated yourself from everyone else who might be cool, divorce can be tough.

A couple of months into our first semester, my floor-friend Jessica and I (she wasn't like the others, I swear!) felt that it was high time to break these boundaries, so we packed up some provisions (pillows, a sleeping bag and some low-sodium rice cakes), and moved our cute non-exclusive butts into the only place we felt would accurately give us the complete John Jay experience sans floors: the elevator. Little did we know that our attempt at free-association, carried out from 4:24 am to 5:30am on a Saturday morning, would be met with apathy at best.

Once we were settled in, we decided we needed a nap. We had hardly closed our eyes when a concerned and very confused- looking guy stepped into the elevator. We opened our eyes and looked at him.

Us: Hi!

Confused guy: You guys, uh, sure you're ok?

Jess: Yes, we're good.

CG: Wouldn't you like a bed or something?

Me: No, we're good.

CG: Okay. All right. (Elevator arrives at his precious little floor.)

Us: Goodnight!

CG: Yeah, uh, have a nice night. (Runs to the safety of his precious little floor.)

The elevator then returned to the "M" level to wait for more sleepy children. While we were waiting for our next companion, Jess and I took some time to fully appreciate the elevator.

Me: Look at the paneling on the walls. Look at that cleverly-hidden little video camera. It's like, this perfect little underappreciated room!

Jess: It sounds like the ocean in here!

Just then the doors creaked open. This time it was a maintenance guy with a key. We thought he might kick us out, or at least ask for our IDs to make sure we weren't crazy hobo women, but he simply glanced at us once, then turned around to face the door until we got up to MZ. As he was getting out, we attempted an interview.

Me: Hey!

Jess: Um, goodnight!

Maintenance Man: (silence)

We utterly failed to impress him. I guess he's seen a lot worse.

We had a very short wait on the M level before a girl entered the elevator, talking on her cell phone. She talked facing us for a few seconds, and then gasped as if noticing us for the first time.

Cell phone girl: Holy shit, there are people sleeping in this elevator! The shit you see in New York City!

We waited until she hung up.

Me: Who were you talking to?

CPG: A friend who's coming to visit me.

Jess: Guy or girl?

CPG: Guy.

Us: Oooooh (giggling)

CPG: Nothing like that. Jesus.

Me: What's your name?

CPG: (leaves)

Jess: I thought that one went well.

There was another long interlude while we were waiting for our next friend-we-hadn't-yet-met. We mused on the meaning of the M.

Me: I wonder what it stands for?

Jess: I'd say it's Mezzanine, but the MZ probably stands for that.

Me: Hmm.

We decided that maybe it stood for Main level, or the M in hoMe. We also decided to try harder not to let the next guy or girl slip away so quickly. Ding!

Guy: What the h?

Girl: Giggle?

They were so stunned they simply refused to get on. This is what we got for trying to be friendly! Fortunately, a few seconds later we found a newer, better friend.

Us: Hi!

Non-descript guy: Hi.

Me: Where did you go tonight?

NG: (demonstrating lack of imagination) Oh man, I went everywhere! I went to Carman, I went to Barnard, and then I went to Tom's!

Jess: What was your favorite?

NG: Tom's.

Jess: I knew you were gonna say that.

Me: Do you ever sit by the bathroom?

NG: No...?

Jess: You know sometimes, people go in the bathroom there and barf. You should try it!

NG: (long pause) Don't you guys feel, like, carsick?

Me: No, we're good! (NG exits.)

At this point, we decided it was almost time to call it a night. When our final John Jay brethren entered the elevator, I was determined to leave our moving home having impressed upon at least one person the value of living on Floor Infinity, as we'd affectionately begun to call the elevator.

Us: Hi!

Our friend: Hi...you guys okay?

Jess: Yes, we're good.

OF: What are you doing?

Me: Duh, we're camping out in the elevator.

OF: Uh, cool. What floor are you guys on?

Jess: We're branching out. Tonight, we're floorless.

OF: Come on, what floor are you on?

Me: Why do you wanna know so badly?

OF: You know, so if I see you in John Jay I can say ‘Hey, floor whatever girls' or whatever.

Jess: Why can't you say ‘Hey Jamie,' or ‘Hey Jessica?'

OF: I guess I could do that, too. Hmm.

Me: You see? Nobody needs that prejudiced type of language.

OF: I guess you're right. Goodnight!

Me: The night's almost over.

OF: (Looks at watch, sees it's 5:00am.) True!

We then retired to our rooms on our unimportant floor and slept the sleep of those who have enlightened people all night long. But what did we learn from our journey into no-man's land? People don't like the floorless. It makes them ill-at-ease to know that someone might have escaped the sort of floor-bondage that they themselves have fallen victim to. In their jealous rage, they assumed we were retarded, on drugs, or otherwise incapacitated. Yet in the end, Our Friend at least seemed to open up to us. He should stand as an example to all: never discriminate based on floors or anything else! You know we're right: break down the floors in your head, and you will experience true social enlightenment. In other words, Jamie and Jess are your new gods! The dweebs on your floor suck, get out while you still can! We own you people. Free Palestine.