Noble Ogg Hall, what have they done to you? Each week I bike past my old freshman residence hall on my way to class, and each a week there is less of it there than the previous week. It is being dismantled.
Oh, the good times my good friend Andy and I had in our filthy room, so often alienating visitors with our choice of decor: posters either homemade or altered in our slightly confusing attempts at humor, a record player that for some reason had a heavy Fleetwood Mac and Santana rotation, a pair of hermit crabs left too close to the drafty window, and a life-size mannequin we begged off a store in a condemned shopping mall.
It was only ten years ago, but back then half of Ogg was a smoking dorm. Now that I think about it, with all of the boozing and smoking going on every night it's a real miracle it didn't burn down many times over. It was not for lack of trying. Our residence hall assistant, a troubled young man by the name of Thor, actually did try to burn it down once by lighting some doors on fire. His residence hall assistant stint was brief.
I raise a glass to old Ogg Hall. Perhaps you will not be missed, but you will be remembered fondly.
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I fondly remember the 12 pack of beer it took Woody and I to erect your bunk beds or book cases or whatever it was. For some reason, the memory is hazy.
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