The Main Lounge

The huge Main Lounge, the bitter envy of every other dorm, is the heart of Demarest and home of coffeehouses, concerts, section meetings, gaming campaigns, backrub orgies, and secret societies. The ML adjoins the kitchen, which now contains (will wonders never cease!) a microwave, which for years Housing insisted would cause Demarest to explode if one were even carried into the building. The kitchen has been used to make everything from ramen noodles to enormous wax phalluses to . . . love. Whatever you make, CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF or someday Housing will actually follow through on their ancient threat to lock the kitchen permanently.

The kitchen had a refrigerator until some reprobate toted it into his own room. Unless he threw it in his trunk and brought it home with him, Housing has reclaimed it and seems determined not to put it back in the kitchen. They have, however, moved the Coke machine to the ML from the 1FL. (WARNING: "Tipping" the soda machine is a Bad Idea. Just . . . believe it.)

Do treat the ML piano with respect, and do not play it during Quiet Hours, lest angry basement dwellers maul you with sharp objects. By the bye, the screens on the bay windows are removable from the outside.

The Quiet/Study Lounge

Silent, clean, air-conditioned. For a year, perplexingly, there was a copying machine in the QL, which shorted out the whole lounge when plugged in; apparently, nobody ever got it to work, and it was either reclaimed, stolen, or sacrificed in a ritual so bizarre that the witnesses shambled aimlessly about for days afterward, pale-faced, murmuring only "R-r-reprographics." (This is merely conjecture.)

The two-part sofa is many modular parts, which were for years nailed together in a face-to-face "love pit" configuration. Don't hang too many people from the pipes at once, but do make fantastical structures by piling all the furniture together. Please don't stomp and holler in the stairwell and corridor near the QL; sound goes right through the walls.

According to the first Demarest Handbook, "In the Study Lounge, you may not eat, drink, talk, remove all your clothing and dance the Charleston, or smoke." Still a good rule, but if you must violate it, try and keep it to a nice quiet Charleston.

The First-Floor Lounge

Contains some pretty good art -- and some really ugly stuff which should be painted over. Used to house the Coke machine (formerly the Pepsi machine, which nearly killed an incautious resident). The Coke machine emits a robust vibration which interplayed alarmingly with the acoustics of the 1FL: You had to unplug the machine if you planned to be in the lounge for a while; the vibrations might otherwise sterilize or kill you.

Previously, the 1FL was the least desirable place in the dorm to lock the door and have sex: The soda machine drew night owls and the 1FL had a great view from Wessels Hall (or any spot right outside the windows) if the curtains weren't cleverly arranged for maximum cover. Now that the Coke machine is in the ML and the dorm has new curtains, the 1FL may have greater potential -- this will require some field research. (Please submit observations via our response form.)

The Second-Floor Lounge

Wholly unremarkable. Adjacent to the preceptor's room and stairwell; you can get away with very little here trystwise; the jury's out on whether it's still better than the 1FL. (Response form.)

The Third-Floor Lounge

Lovely with the lights out on a night with a full moon. No curtains necessary. Has the best view of the Bishop Square area, if you can't get into the cupola.

The bathrooms

There is technically one men's bathroom and one women's bathroom on each floor. In practice, the bathrooms usually evolve into some degree of co-ed as residents decide it's not worth the bother to run around the building just to wash their hands. Some people are more modest than others, and the less inhibited among you should respect the shy sensibilities of those who would prefer not to share the bathrooms with the opposite gender during the day. However, it is for the adventurous and discreet to discover the delights of showering with friends.

Treat the bathrooms with respect; the cleaning crew are not your personal servants and you would do well not to disgust them (or your fellow Demarites) with excessive slovenliness. Never, ever, ever walk into the bathrooms or showers barefoot, or you will pick up fungus or planter's warts, which requires many painful trips to Hurtado to cure. Most students have a planter's warts story, so it's not really something to be ashamed of, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cryogenic removal. If it offends your bohemian sensibilities to wear something on your feet around the dorm, don't say you weren't warned.

The laundry room

Houses the condom machine.

The dryers do not understand large loads. It costs less to do several small loads in the dryers than to keep feeding quarters to one overloaded dryer which can't function efficiently. It is also worth the bother to do your laundry at three in the morning, just so there are enough empty dryers among which to split your laundry. Tip: The dryers accept Canadian quarters.

It is bad manners to take someone else's laundry out of a machine and dump it on the floor (particularly if said clothes are soaking wet); likewise, it is bad manners to leave your finished laundry unattended so that other people can't use a machine or a folding table. When you do your laundry, be prepared to stay in the laundry room until your clothes are finished.

The mystery doors from the laundry room are as follows.

• End of the little hallway, on the left: Bike room.
• End of the little hallway, on the right: The dorm's electrical room, a dusty little cell which contains the security-system computer. There's also a fixture in the corner for what used to be a signal feed to (or from?) WRSU.
• Next to the condom machine: Some sort of maintenance-crew area, which you can see into by standing on the washing machines and looking over the wall.
• Across from the washing machines: Nobody knows. Nobody's ever been in there.

The art room

Formerly the music room. Regardless that this room was originally designed for musical practice, it should not be used as such. Sound leaks right into the QL, which must be kept silent, and -- worse -- it also reverberates through the little wing of rooms on the low side of the basement.

Art materials are not to be left sitting in the art room. At the very least, your tools may be stolen -- at worst, a hapless innocent may be injured by vapor or chemical burn, not to mention that Housing is just itching for an excuse to lock this room. The hidden nook between the art room and the QL is the official home of one of Demarest's honorary old-guard ghosts. In homage, please hum Peter Gabriel's "Big Time" to yourself when you walk through it.

The bike room

Bikes left here have been stripped and stolen. Don't store your bike here, but don't lock it to railings in the stairwells either or Housing will cut the lock and impound the bike. Keep your bike in your room. Also on the subject of bicycles, don't lock your bike to trees outside Demarest. The Housing threat applies.

The photography room

On the high side of the basement, behind the bike room, is a spare room which is now inexplicably padlocked. Some years ago, it was the Demarest photography lab. The equipment has since been removed from this room and it is now an empty bathroom like its twin on the other side of the basement. Curiously, these bathrooms are the only ones in Demarest with electric hand dryers, but this riddle pales in comparison with the fact that Demarest's only handicapped-equipped bathroom is on the third floor.

The back steps

You can exit through the door on the basement low side without tripping an alarm, because this door is nearest the ramp. This ramp, the back steps, and the ledge outside B-6 are traditional sites for naked dancing and primal screaming, although some consideration should be paid to the inhabitants of the basement rooms. The lamp at the top of the ramp is named Arthur.

The cupola

Demarest's sacred place. There is graffiti in the cupola dating from 1957 on. The cupola is accessible via a ladder from the attic; the attic door is atop the center stairwell. Bring something to write with. There should still be a guest book hidden in the cupola for you to sign, if it hasn't been stolen by Housing workers. Being in the attic is grounds for losing your housing, unless you don't get caught. In 1993, lightning struck the cupola, blowing out some wood and a few windows. Those skilled in the interpretation of omens will recognize that the gods are so furious with Housing's sealing of the cupola from True Demarites that they blew it open themselves, but Housing chose to ignore the sign, and Housing only can be responsible for the coming wrath.

The Tunnels

Tunnels? Crawlway tunnels leading to an old civil defense fallout shelter in the sub-basement of a University building? With boxes of petrified survival biscuits (vintage 1967) which look like graham crackers but fly like shuriken (and won't chip when they skip off the sidewalk -- and, according to survivors, taste like crayons)? Low ceilings and rattling pipes and lots of dust and candles and truly strange sounds coming from nowhere you can discern?

Uh . . . never heard of 'em.

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