Iwas walking in the dark and mysterious tunnels of Cabot House one day when an old friend of mine accosted me.

"Hey, am I glad to see you! Do you live here?" said she, looking like a mouse lost in a maze.

"Yes," I replied, immediately put on guard by her question.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Anyway, I've been wandering around for hours trying to figure out how to get to North House," she cried out.

"This is only the second time I've ever been up in the Quad. I'm so lost," the friend sorrowfully whined.

"Oh, I'm sorry for you," I said, and pointed the way to her destination. I might as well have sent her on a wild goose chase. Sometimes walking in the Quad tunnels can be so much fun.

The incident amused me, since the poor lost waif was a junior. Imagine, such ignorance when so wise in years!

HOWEVER, when my ears tune in on Quad criticism, my amusement turns into disgust.

"You've been Quadded? What's it like up there? What are the people like up there?" people often ask me. I feel as though I've been exiled to the ozone layer. I've been waiting for someone to ask if Quadlings actually lived and breathed like normal Harvard students.

Other questions don't place us out of this world, but in a distant city. "What's your zipcode? Air mail? Do we have to dial '9' to call you? How much is a taxi there? Is it in Cambridge?" Or best of all, "the Quad, not far from one of America's most prestigious institutions of higher learning."

Hah. Hah.

What did we Quadlings do to deserve the ridicule of our peers? If anything, we should receive sympathy for having to walk more than 15 minutes everyday to reach the Square or for waiting even longer for the mythical shuttle.

After talking with several members of the Quad elite, I have come up with a hypothesis about our critics (Quadlings not included). Freshmen, whose meals are currently dominated by conversations about the housing lottery, should especially take note of this. This could be your home away from Harvard, so prepare yourselves.

Like most opposites in this world--bad and good, Alan Alda and Dirty Harry--Quad bashers come under two categories, the ignorant and the intellegent. The ignorant are simply that. If you confronted them with a map of Cambridge, they wouldn't be able to identify the Quad's location or even tell you its general direction. (Hint: It's northwest of Harvard Yard toward Calgary).

Furthermore, the ignorant know nothing of the many benefits bestowed upon Quadlings by the powers-that-be in Mass Hall. They don't know about Sunday night milk and cookies (a legendary and lofty Radcliffe tradition), Ice Walls, Floyd's Soho Grille, Nick's Beef 'n' Beer, the Starship Enterprise Dining Hall, not to mention McDonalds, Popeye's Fried Chicken, White Hen Pantry, and the rest of the stores along Mass. Ave.