IN what has become a grand annual tradition, I recently revisited the former campus of Marymount College. My old stomping grounds incite lots of fun memories, but the current, and seemingly uncontrolled, downward spiral of the place is aggravating to say the least. And enough to warrant the (perhaps questionable) behavior of my dear friend (cue Golden Girls theme song) Meaghan and I.
As it was last summer, the place is still overrun with foreign kids who don’t know how to keep anything nice or clean. Some little brat even thought it would be okay to write on a pillar on the second floor of Butler parlor:
But I guess a fleeting romance at your English language school is worthy of being scrawled on the pillar of the remnants of an important national treasure. In case you can’t make it out, the graffiti reads: “A + H Happiness is only real when shared. 2010” At least they spelled it correctly.
One might think that with all of the various places these kids could kill time, on campus alone, with internet access and flat screens galore, that they would find better things to do than destroy property. For example, one could watch the World Cup just down the steps from the cafeteria, or compose hate mail to Father McShane in the computer lab nearby.
The former chapel is still a sort of recreational space, as is the old education space in the basement of Gailhac… oh I mean LUGARI Hall. Yes, apparently Gailhac must’ve been too confusing, or perhaps not significant enough of a name to be maintained. If Lugari sounds familiar to any of you alumnae out there, that’s because it’s the surname of the (former?) Director of Facilities, the avid hunter of anything with a pulse who kept quite a menagerie of kill in his office ON CAMPUS. Right beneath the dining hall. Seriously. Bears, deer – even some sort of boar sat in front of his desk. Really sick stuff. He even had a small stuffed squirrel on a shelf. Who hunts squirrel?
The former professor offices in Gerard Hall seem to be more dorms now. A stark white hall runs straight through from the beautiful foyer entrance to the back stairwell. Last summer we saw the entire space gutted, through the window of the main door, which promised asbestos inside.
Apparently these little shits even get their trash picked up, because little trash cans were outside of all of the doors. However, despite that convenient service, someone saw it fit to abandon their “Nasstoy” on top of a box of books on the guard desk.
Again, it was really easy to walk around freely, and open doors. We found that most spaces were converted into classrooms, even the old Dean offices and registrar. We learned a lot just by walking through the halls:
Most unfortunately, the secret door to the dome was locked this time. We really should’ve brought tools.
After that we enjoyed iced coffees at Coffee Labs, and the company of some fine, if not intrusive, older gentleman, possibly retired, most likely unemployed. They spewed forth valuable wisdom about refraining from getting anyone’s phone number at work, and the repercussions of losing soccer teams from Communist countries. Delightful.
The best anecdote from the day however, happened much later, after a dependably delicious meal at Lefteris. While stuck in a small traffic jam (or mish mosh as an old lady walking past called it), an older woman in the opposing lane, stuck next to us, foolishly struck the curb and popped her tire. Of course, this led Meaghan and I into a fit of giggles, because the ridiculous woman had just been warned by her passenger husband to avoid the curb, and she was too damn inpatient to just wait for our car to advance. They were pretty calm and collected though. However, a psychopathic middle-aged woman with a huge dog hanging out of the back of her menses-red subaru wagon noted our laughter, and started shouting about how inappropriate we were. As we eventually drove past her, she had the gaul to shout at me: “You shouldn’t be laughing, you bimbo!”
Man, I love that town. I’m already looking forward to 2011.