“So what dorm are you in honey?” asks my mom over the phone. Freeze frame. Let’s back up. It’s my first day. At Harvard University. And I’m apparently living in a building called… “Wigglesworth”? They might as well just have placed me in the Shit Fuck Shanty Tent For Pedophiles.
Okay, disregarding the fact that I’m about to get my ass kicked every single day for the next 4 years because I live in a building named “Wigglesworth”, now I have to tell my family? So they can kick my ass when I’m home? Yeah, right.
“Honey? Are you there? What is the name of the building you live in?” “Uhhhh...” Time to think fast. I look around my room for ideas. I see my framed poster of Thayer Hall, a piece of paper with the word Canaday written on it, and my two roomates, both named Matthew, who were furiously using sign language to say the word Pennypacker. “The room is live in…ummm...it’s called...uhhh...”
“The Adolf Hitler Memorial Dorm!” I shout. Phew.
“The what?” asks my mom. “The uh, the Memorial Dorm for Adolf Hitler”. “Oh, sorry,” she says, “I didn’t hear you the first time. Well that sounds very nice, sweetie. I love you.” Click. My mom hangs up. That was a close one. I guess this won’t be the first time a Crimson reporter has said a hearty, “Thanks, Hitler!”