Nothing breeds curiosity, ill-will, fantasy or 5 a.m. fire alarms quite like the firedoor. That forbidden "In case of fire, strike; tampering forbidden; penalty" bizarrely located and not-at-all-soundproof piece of wood and metal is all that stands between your Harvard habitat and the great beyond. There it stands, inviting the inquiring mind. Perhaps your true love, worst enemy, or a room set-up that looks like a palace lies beyond the door. And can the people over there hear you talking about private issues?

Answer: yes. In fact, they know your most intimate secrets.

Those doors, which superintendents instruct you to absolutely never, ever open, occasionally take the liberty themselves. In Quincy House last year, John H. Hight '00 had the experience of living in a room with a fire door in the bathroom connected to a women's suite.

"One day," Hight says, "My roommate was brushing his teeth when all of a sudden the door swung open, revealing the women next door."

Some remained more calm than others in the uncomfortable situation.

"My roommate was very cool about it," Hight says. "He was just like, `Hey,' but the women seemed a little freaked out and they slammed the door shut. It wasn't as bad as it could have been-no one was fully nude or anything."

Other students have had less unfortunate but more antagonistic relationships with fire door neighbors.

"Last year, the guy living across the fire-door from my bedroom kept different hours from us," explains Adam J. Klein '00. "He played his stereo very, very loud. He played cheesy music-Bon Jovi or something."

Klein dealt with the situation in the most mature manner possible.

"We started having 'stereo wars,'" he says. "Sometime I left mine on really loud when I went out."

Then other issues complicated Klein's predicament--the man behind the fire door began having guests.

"I would hear him hooking up," Klein says. "I put earplugs in my ears so I didn't have to listen--I definitely advise earplugs."

One night, the tension peaked. According to Klein, the stereo next door was playing loudly, so Klein banged on the wall, an action he considered a sort of international symbol for `turn down the music.' The volume remained constant, so Klein banged again.

This time, however, the offending student came knocking on Klein's front door, asking him to please stop banging on the fire door. Klein admits that he then ran and hid in his room while his roommates explained that they just wanted the music turned down.

"The guy apologized about the music," says Klein, who eventually emerged from his room to investigate the battle royale's conclusion. Through a bit more detective work, Klein was able to figure out the two people who lived next door, but never discovered who was his `stereo wars' enemy.