Applying for Housing

I found out I'd been placed at Boston University in late March, and shortly afterwards I began trying for on-campus housing for the summer. I figured that since Boston is such a big place, finding decent off-campus housing which was conveniently close to where I needed to be and which I was willing to live in would be a pain. Much easier to live on-campus, where I was guaranteed to be close and didn't have to worry about the myriad little details involved in living off-campus.

I went to the Boston University Summer Housing website and discovered that I would need a special form to apply for housing, since the standard form was applicable for Summer School and I would be in Boston for a different amount of time. The housing application for the first Summer Session, which began 2 weeks before I would arrive, was due Friday May 2, so I wanted to get my form in as soon as possible. I called the Housing Office several times in late April and early May, and was always told that there was only one person who could give me such a form, and they were unavailable. Finally, on Monday May 5, I received an e-mail from the Manager of Accounts and Summer Housing, Meredith Yauckoes. This e-mail clearly stated that the housing materials were ready and requested information from me, but neglected to ask when I would actually be in Boston, which seems like a crucial detail.

Believing that everything was under control and that I would soon be receiving an application for Summer Housing, I did not contact the Boston University Housing Office for 2 weeks. It was then Monday May 19, I was scheduled to begin research on Monday June 9, and I was now quite nervous about my lack of a place to live. I began to call the Housing Office at least once a day for 4 days, attempting to get the proper form to fill out to apply for housing. Each time I was told that the Housing Manager would call me back or e-mail me, which never occurred. Finally, on Thursday May 22, I threw a fit and shortly thereafter received the form I needed, as well as a promise of a phone call the next day which I did not receive.

Now that I had actually applied and paid for housing, I just needed to wait for them to confirm that they received the materials and then tell me when I could call and find out my residence assignment. The confirmation never came, and once again I became nervous. I had paid a ridiculous amount for housing, I didn't want to be living in a cardboard box in the street (which may actually have been nicer than the place I ended up living). Finally, FINALLY, on Thursday, June 5, days before I was scheduled to arrive, I received an e-mail asking me a fax number where my assignment information could be sent. Now, I wondered why she couldn't have just sent that information in the e-mail, instead of requiring me to get back to her with a number where she could get back to me, but I didn't want to rock the boat and never find out where I was supposed to be living, so I gave her the number of the fax machine in TCNJ's Computer Science department. The fax machine in the department is so bad that the repairmen refuse to come fix it anymore, so after at least 20 paper jams (No, I am not kidding) the department secretary and I finally convinced it to start printing out my information. There was no cover sheet on the fax, and no other indication of how many pages I should be expecting, but I could read most of the information.

Hamilton House Apartment 303

I was quite happy when I read my housing assignment. Apartment 303, after all, is the apartment where we first meet Trinity in The Matrix, and I am a female Computer Scientist, so it seemed appropriate (Yes, I'm a nerd). I was disappointed to find that my apartment building was so far away that it was not on the Boston University campus map, but I figured walking 2 miles roundtrip each day would be good for me.

I drove up to Boston with my boyfriend on Saturday with the idea that we would stop and get a hotel somewhere in Massachusetts. However, we ended up missing all of the affordable, easy-to-find hotels, so at 2 am Sunday morning we were at the Summer Housing office hoping someone could check us in. The RA on call, who turned out to be the RA for my floor, was very nice and walked several blocks in her pajamas so that I would have a place to sleep. She also had to call every supervisor imaginable because it turns out that Boston University has an extremely strict guest policy, which I will discuss later. And then it was time to move in.

I wasn't very happy when I saw the apartment building, but I held out some hope for the actual apartment. However, all of my hope was misplaced, and I wanted to cry when I saw the studio apartment where I would be staying for the next 10 weeks. There were holes in the curtains, holes in the walls, cracks in the ceiling, the carpet was frayed, the doors on the medicine cabinet in the bathroom didn't fully cover the opening, the shower was so dimly lit I could barely see, my kitchen was about a foot wide, and the kitchen cabinets were peeling. I couldn't even be sure the elevator wouldn't eat me, the doors bang shut with such force. I was paying $220.50 a week for this craphole? To make matters worse, the other building where Summer Associates (those of us who aren't Boston University students but are here for the summer) were living was the nicest, newest housing complex on campus. So, you pay the same price to live in the nastiest or the nicest place on campus, and I got screwed. The only pleasant surprise was that I do have air conditioning. Boston in the summer with no air conditioning would be more than I could bear.

As an added bonus, several weeks after I moved in I learned that my apartment building, lovely Hamilton House, hadn't always belonged to Boston University. Before BU bought Ham House, it was a motel with an hourly rate. That's right, I live in place so disgusting it's where people who aren't supposed to be having sex used to go to have sex.

Boston University Guest Policy

The most unpleasant surprise about Boston University housing was the totalitarian guest policy. I have attended or have had friends who attended a wide number of colleges, and never have I encountered such a strict policy. I was therefore understandably upset when I showed up late one night to check into my dorm, with my boyfriend along to help me move (small women do not carry large TVs), and found out that I only have 3 guest passes per Summer Session (I would be here for most of both sessions), they could not be used consecutively, I have to submit paperwork 48 hours in advance to an office which is not anywhere near my building, and I am not allowed to host a member of the opposite sex. Instead, I must find a random male stranger (since I know nobody here) to be the "Host" for my guest, and I am relegated to a "Co-Host" position. My friends and I like to take roadtrips, so they'd been planning on visiting me while I was here in Boston, but the crappy guest policy makes that impossible. The moral of the story is I'm paying ridiculous amounts of money to live in lonely squalor.

Driving in Boston

Driving in Boston sucks. Don't do it. All roads are one way, all intersections are 5 way are, there are no straight streets, and there are no street signs anywhere. I'm not kidding. Also, even though I was told when I checked in that I didn't need to buy a Boston University parking permit because we were so far off campus, and instead I could just park in the surrounding residential neighborhood, that isn't true. The surrounding residential neighborhood has no signs posted, but overnight parking is not allowed. There's nothing better than to walk up to your car, heading home for the weekend, and find it covered in parking tickets. My car is currently crammed into a tiny space on the only known half block section of street for blocks, even miles, in any direction with free, unlimited parking. Damn, am I good.

Walking in Boston

In a related note, walking in Boston is also an adventure. There are no more than 2 working crossing signals. Jaywalking is so common, I have seen several different mothers push their young children into the road in front of oncoming traffic. I've been driving through a green light and had to stop to avoid hitting small children, little old ladies, and everyone in between. I've had someone driving by thank me for letting them go, which means I didn't throw myself in front of their moving car.

Also, I have never seen men so blatantly stare at women as they do in Boston. I'm normally pretty oblivious about the whole deal, but I can't help but notice it here. Most of my friends are guys, and they've told me about how sneaky they have to be when looking at girls. Boston men aren't. I have seen men riding bikes turn to stare at women's asses for so long I've been amazed they haven't run into something. I can't walk to work without getting honked at once or twice, at least. I've even had someone drive by and honk at me, which prompted the guy walking in front of me to turn around to get a good, long look at me, too. It's creepy.

The worst, most disgusting, yet so very funny thing ever happened the other day. Christen and I were walking to work, and noticed a middle-aged guy approaching us, whistling. Suddenly, the guy burst into a song aimed at Christen (a tall, tan, skinny, blond Asian): "Why are Asian women so pretty? Do you believe in interracial love? I am John, you can be my Yoko." We had no clue how to respond, so we just stared straight ahead and ignored him for as long as we could. The John/Yoko comment was the best, because we thought he was just trying to introduce himself as we walked away, but no, it was so much more.

Eating in Boston