Over the past four years, my career as a tenant and subleter, with and without Craigslist, has been chaotic at best. I remember freshman year when I was assigned to an all-girls floor of “the Ritz” Claflin, one of the older, neglected buildings at BU. The culture of the dorm was divided, half of us came from wealthy, Jewish families and had never had to share anything in our lives, and the other half were grateful to have vending machines in the basement. Admittedly part of the former, I struggled with the idea of waiting for a shower during the critical “getting-ready” time and running the risk of going out with frizzy hair. To make matters worse, I was expected to share a room narrower than a railroad-track with a girl, who, judging from her Vera Bradley luggage, may not appreciate my company.

“Miss Sarah Steinberg- a giggling, John-Mayer-blasting good girl from West Chester, Pennsylvania, represented everything I loathed about suburban life. Suffering from arrested development at age 12, she played with Furbies, had no interest in alcohol (or boys for that matter), and organized campus bake-outs in her spare time. The only slightly unruly part about her was that she was half-Jewish, which she tried to keep a low profile on despite the unmistakable last name.

In the beginning, I made a few attempts at introducing her to the party-girl lifestyle, inviting her to clubs, pregames…you name it. As you could imagine, my efforts were poorly received, and only strengthened the wall that divided us. Sarah was disinterested in my world- entirely content baking brownies with her other virginal friends.

Accustomed to being admired for my hard-partying ways, I decided to ignore my roommate all together. Within a few weeks, the room felt more like my studio than an actual dorm, a sanctuary of eyeliner-smudged q-tips, perfume bottles and stilletos.

By the time Halloween rolled around, I was too preoccupied with my own plans to realize that Sarah’s resentment had deepened. I had become quite oblivious to her feelings, which were seldom displayed apart from the occasional flinch while typing at her computer (a typical WASP reaction). As I would soon discover, Sarah was capable of far more.

She decided to strike just when my closest friend, Melissa, had traveled from New York to join in on the Halloween festivities. To jump-start our weekend of drunken debauchery, Melissa lit a cigarette while she sat on my bed and began toying with ideas for a devil-whore costume. While I thought nothing of it, Sarah, sitting quietly at her computer, jumped up wildly from her seat and marched out of the room. Little did I know, she had read the Student Handbook cover to cover, and was headed straight for the RA’s (Resident Assistant) office to report this “illegal activity.”

Two days later, my first roommate ever had moved into a room across the hall and I was left with fines, a suspended student accoun, and multiple disciplinary meetings. The only redeeming part of this situation was that, for the remainder of the semester, I was flying solo. American Eagle never did suit my style.

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