Community

Liz Loves: Our Bronxville campus’ broken things

by Elizabeth Uzelac

Wednesday February 22, 2006

As I last left you I was discussing my infinite fondness for the little things that exist in our daily lives here in postal code 10708. For this week’s installment I would like to transition from acknowledging the miniscule objects that have a place in all of our hearts to appreciating the crumbling buildings and belligerent furniture that make SLC worth every cent of the astronomical tuition. Nothing makes me swoon more than the charm of the dilapidated.

Marshall Field Music Building

Hell, the whole building is broken. Mold is slowly infiltrating the lungs of young, promising musicians from the basement practice rooms where the sound-proofing has rejected the walls and ceilings in favor of the hospitality of the floor. Elaborate crown molding (so crisp!) and decadent carpeting (so red!) completes the façade of competence on the main level. Also, there’s a bathtub.

Film Viewing Room Chairs

From the seventies to begin with, these chairs never really stood a fair chance in this world. A noble soul once identified the busted suckers to the public with white tape that was stretched across the rows. The tape has long since disappeared and just when you think you’ve memorized the placement of the perpetrators, one slips through the proverbial crack and there you are, on your ass, with a hot, spillable beverage (no longer) in hand. The plus side of this all-too-frequent collapse is that it’s almost always hilarious. If nothing else, the good ol’ FVR gives us sure-fire physical comedy on a daily basis.

The Heat

I know—it’s old news. We all know it’s way hot in the dorms. We all wish we could control our own heat. We all know how much money the school would save if they made it a wee bit cooler. But what we don’t know is how much we’re going to miss wearing shorts year-round once we graduate. The good times are now, kids; we best live it up! If only they still had that kiddie pool in Bates.