Dear Walsh,
Freshman have dreamed of your red brick walls and dimly lit hallways for all of time. Starry-eyed and vicious, they group themselves into even-numbered teams of 4 and 8 and then gather themselves around greasy Mac tables and wait for the email that will determine their fate…and yours.
Walsh, friendships are born from your chipped paint, destroyed because of your exclusivity. The lucky many that hear that chime and see that little red bubble on their mailbox see their future flash before their eyes—alternating blue and orange doorways framing the way for what many describe as the best year here at BC.
Your floors are sticky from endless party fouls and spilled alcoholic concoctions. Your elevators expired and dangerous—a true thrill each time your rickety silver doors close in front of us, and you screech under our weight (too many mozz sticks, perhaps?).
Melissa faithfully guards your doors from sundown to sun up, when intruders of all ages try to infiltrate your hair-ball-halls and late-night-littered stairwells to cram into your modest common rooms and scream the lyrics to Stacy’s Mom at the top of their lungs. Walsh parties and early-2000s throwbacks go together like Tamagotchis and Hit Clips on the ultimate cool kid key chain.
Your convenience to the Plex, to messy Saturday tailgates, to the ice wars we call hockey games, and your simultaneously appropriate removal from any sort of academic building makes our lives so much more “college”.
The familiar smell of stale beer welcomes me home at any hour of the day, the sign of another Walsh weekend well spent. Your true glory shines through your broken ceiling tiles and clogged sinks. Your raggedness warms our hearts and your typical tapestry-covered common room walls make the ideal insta-background.
There are too many lovely things about your memory-filled rooms to name, but your view of our beloved campus is the loveliest of all. At any given time, from any given window, my roommates and I can look out from your rooms and see the red-roofed Mods, the white-capped Plex, the screaming crowds from Alumni stadium, and last but not least, Gasson’s cross-tipped tower standing resolutely against pink-hued sunsets or snowy skies.
Walsh, you are by far the funkiest, grungiest dorm at BC, but don’t feel insecure. It just adds to your charm.
Love,
Your Fifth Floor Secret Admirer
Photo Source:
http://bcgavel.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/walsh-outside–e1364224535193.jpg