What about the watch commander?

"He's out on the road," she said. "If there's an emergency, we contact him on the radio."

This was not an emergency, Dispatcher Louison told me coldly, without even a trace of compassion or an ounce of feigned regret.

Dispatcher Louison would not entertain the pleas of my senior tutor either. And the house masters weren't home. Neither was Ronnie Levesque, or the Quincy House senior tutor.

This problem has been going on for more than a decade, I later learned. Some College officials are upset by it, but those with the authority to change the policy haven't done anything.

I, however, was at a dead end. Locked out of my room for hours on end, I had no money and no identification. I couldn't enter the Lowell House dining hall unless somebody was there to open the locked courtyard for me.

I had no books. Without I.D., I couldn't enter a Harvard library. I had nothing, except for a nice senior tutor, and some friends, who offered their compassion and the use of their rooms.

At my request, Dispatcher Louison had said that I was welcome to sit in the police station's lobby until five. I wouldn't even be able to enjoy a hot cup of coffee, though, because the police don't offer free coffee and I didn't have any money for a vending machine.

Essentially, this is what it's like to be homeless, I thought, except that at least I had friends to whom I could turn.

A lot of whining for a relatively minor incident? Perhaps, though ultimately it cost me a day of my life. And the indifference of the Harvard police and the idiocy of Harvard's bureaucratic policies demand a response.

To be fair, Dispatcher Louison was actually correct in her citation of regulations, as I later found out.

In the Lowell House Handbook, under the heading "Lock Outs," is the warning: "During the day on weekends, there is no guard on duty and nobody around to let you in. The police will not let you in. If your roommate is away, you are stuck until five p.m. Don't lock yourself out."

Sage advice for a stupid policy. Perhaps the next sentence should read: "Avoid stepping in front of oncoming trains."

The irony of it all is that Dispatcher Louison was perfectly willing to talk with me on the telephone for nearly half an hour. But she wasn't willing to help.

Watch Commander Lt. George Hill was perfectly willing to drive around Cambridge looking for emergencies that didn't exist (I know they didn't because I stopped by the police department late Saturday afternoon, in my capacity as a Crimson reporter, and asked the afternoon dispatcher. The dispatcher, who refused to identify himself, told me that "nothing noteworthy" had happened all day.) Like Dispatcher Louison, Hill was not willing to offer me any assistance either.

The response of the Harvard police in this situation was inexcusable. They refused to help a student in need, and they refused a direct request from a senior officer of the University.

What's the answer? If you ask me, the entire Harvard Police Department should be fired. Start with Dispatcher Louison and Watch Commander Hill.

But, I'll admit, that might be an overreaction. More practically, the police and the University should abandon ridiculous policies that punish innocent students and make a concerted effort to offer assistance when it is needed.

Walt Whitman once wrote, "From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors, let me be wafted."

Tell me about it.