Phone Guy: Granted, it has been two years since these events transpired, but they continue to baffle me in a way that nothing else has since. While living in Hell (West Wadsworth Hall, Excello House. Purgatory was just down the hall from us. *Note: Purgatory is really the name of one of the houses in Wadsworth Hall. So is Maggot Hall) myself and my roommates were "lucky." Outside our door was one of the rare areas of the hallway that was wide enough for two people to walk next to each other. It was, in fact, about the size of a single person dorm room. This was a blessing, since it enable us to leave the room without worrying about killing some poor pedestrian as we ran out the door. As with most things in life, t'was also a curse. Due to the large size of this area, people tended to congregate here. This was fine, when it was done in normal college business hours (i.e. 9 AM-11 PM). There was one, but later two, who didn't like to abide by this unwritten rule, PHONE GUY. Yeah, neither of us really took the time to learn his name, but when you're still up at 3:00 in the morning listening to some whiny troll (inhabitant of Michigan's Lower Peninsula) complain to his girlfriend over the phone, you tend not to care about the bastard's name. It wasn't bad enough that he sat in the gap to do it, but he had to sit right next to our door, or the piece of balsam wood that pass for doors up there, to do it. As if that wasn't annoying enough, he had to be loud too.
The toleration for such behavior lasted approximately the first half of orientation week. By the second week of classes, we started snapping. First we began by making the area uninhabitable.
Phase one: Dave spills water where Phone Guy sits. Results of phase one: Phone Guy sits on other side of door. Agreement is reached that phase one is a failure, unless we water the entire floor.
Phase Two: Signage. Using my old and junky computer (it was the only one that had an adequate program for the creation of official looking signage, including a watermark effect and stationary) we generate a series of signs. These signs range in statements, but all reflect the same truth. MOVE! Some of these included: "No Phone Zone," "Please Observe Quiet Hours," "Caution: Ass Mites Present," and "You Have a Room. Use it!" Results of phase two: Nominal at best. Agreement is reached that signs do not work either. Time to begin phase three.
Phase Three: We begin declaring open war with Phone Guy. The agreement is reached that if we habitat the area as much as possible, we block his usage. Day one: Brent and I grab our phones and chairs. I call Brent. We sit in opposite corners and talk to each other, over the phone, for two hours. Upon Phone Guy's arrival, he notices the space is filled and vacates the premises. Success. Day two is spent passing one of those little two helicopters back and forth. This strategy proves effective as well, but is not a continual plan as we must hold for every passerby, lest we want a lawsuit. The next few days I operate solo, at least from the Tech. end of things. Almost nightly either I call Sara down at Western Michigan, or she calls me. I, naturally, take all the calls out in the hallway with the sole purpose of blocking phone guy's abilities to do so. Works perfectly. On the nights that I am not on the phone with Sara, Dave and I take a further attack plan. Sword fights with the curtain rods, loud music from the computer, TV turned up high, and just generally obnoxious behavior. The earlier success continues. Finally we get more people involved. Hallway football begins, but quickly ends when a light fixture is broken. Hallway golf begins (putters only), but also ends due to high traffic. We begin playing hacky sack, but eventually the group gets too big and we are forced to migrate down the hall to the floor lobby. We begin playing catch with bouncy balls. The agreement is reached that this is the most effective way to curb his abuses. But like all good things, this too comes to an end since unless we are occupying the space he will.
In the final phase, a final shot is fired. I begin taking my phone calls right outside HIS door at 1:00 AM. All instances of being kept up by the whining end...as does the school year.
More to come!