Indeed, a happy Quad existence requires an affinity for scheduling and a penchant for planning. According to sophomore Quad enthusiast Luke Stoeckel '01, "In the morning I have to plan my whole day and pack up everything I'll need." While Stoeckel has been able to incorporate this into his daily routine without frustration, transfers commonly agree that the pitfalls of Quad life are outweighed only by the backpacks they're forced to lug around the Yard all day. Still, despite its basic inconveniences, many believe the separation between home and class is actually a positive benefit. '94 Pfoho graduate and current Winthrop resident tutor Jim Doak maintains that "there's something to be said for returning home to the Quad."
They forecast rain, but the sun is actually shining! I was supposed to chronicle a normal day in my life as a quadling, but this screws everything up. Anyways, I wake up late and dress hurriedly. Nothing unusual here. Hmmmm...two classes today with two hours in between. I'll need a few bucks for a snack, books and notebooks for both classes, and a raincoat since it would probably rain even if they hadn't forecast it (walking to the Quad through a Nor'Easter last year turned me into a cynic). Nobody eats breakfast in the Quad. That's not anything surprising, since nobody anywhere in college eats breakfast. I, too, skip the dining hall, throw my backpack on, and run out to the bike rack. It's 10:05 a.m. Class starts in two minutes-a quick calculation tells me I'll be three minutes, thirty-four seconds late to my Harvard Hall lecture. The closest bike rack is full, I end up being five minutes late exactly. Class lets out at 11 a.m. I have two hours to kill, but that's not long enough to return home for any appreciable time and not be rushed. Shit, no inter-House at Adams today. Gong this! 11 a.m. is too early for lunch anyways, but I have nothing else to do and I'm avoiding my TF's office hours in Loker. I head to Holyoke to grab a seat at the awkwardly situated Campo di Fioro (spellcheck!!). I get the first chunk of the freshly baked bread du jour on my sandwich and I take mental notes on who's going into UHS. By 11:30 a.m. I've got to get out of Holyoke. The chairs are uncomfortable and I've learned far too much information about who's on prescription medicine. I head over to the Science Center to chill in the Greenhouse and spend the rest of my BoardPlus on an overpriced Cappucino Smoothie so I won't get kicked out from my table. Try to read, fail. More people watching. After my second class, I walk outside and try to figure out where I left my bike. Two laps around the Yard later, I spy it on the obscure rack hidden by a bush. D'oh! I can finally head home, although it pains me to ride by the Development Office, where I'll have to come back in three hours for work. Get back to the Quad at 2:30 p.m. I'm exhausted, shoulders sore from my backpack. I remember that I forgot to turn in my Philosophy paper while I was in the Yard. Sonofa b$%@#! Bike back to Emerson (in the rain) and chuck the soggy mess into TF's mailbox. Get back to Quad at 3 p.m. Collapse onto bed and fall asleep watching General Hospital. THE QRAC AND QUAD SPORTS Though the MAC is open a full 20 hours more each week, there are less overcrowding problems at the QRAC due to restricted access barring graduate students. Tight restrictions on non-undergraduate use of the QRAC result in, according to some, a better maintained facility. And although QRAC has been likened to a "warehouse" or "military bunker," it offers some things that its stately River cousin lacks. Smaller than the MAC, the QRAC is mainly known for its basketball and racquetball and squash courts, as well as a fairly extensive variety of Nautilus machines. While half of the main gymnasium space is always set aside for pick-up basketball, the other half can be reserved for volleyball, badminton, or other activities. Most complaints revolve around the QRAC's limited hours and lack of free weights. Interestingly enough, University records claim the facility is air-conditioned and equipped with rooftop ice-skating capabilities, but the facility actually lacks both. Athletics play a prominent role in Quad culture and are certainly not limited to QRAC resources. Impressive Quad performance in recent Intramurals Straus Cup championships exemplifies the pride with which Quad non-varsity athletes represent their homeland. Cabot House has won the Straus Cup for the past three years and currently follows Pforzheimer in the race. In addition to focusing athletic energies into IMs, Quad Houses are also known for their exceptional weight room facilities. Currier, for example, provides access to the free weights missing from the QRAC and has a separate workout room. THE HOUSING Long established as a promised land of singles, the Quad does indeed offer a substantially higher proportion of single rooms to rising sophomores than many River Houses offer. Nevertheless, many a be-doubled Quad sophomore will suggest that the administration of Houses paints too rosy a picture of the singles scene. CURRIER. According to the Currier House Assistance to the Masters, Patricia Pepper, "99 percent of the rooms [in Currier] are singles off a hallway." While Katherine Hart '01 laments that this rooming arrangement can make things lonely, there are obvious benefits to Currier's standard sophomore housing, either a single with a hall bathroom, or an adjoining single separated with a bathroom. Despite the optimistic probabilities, however, a few unlucky Currier sophomores manage to defy the lottery odds (some would say for the second time). Pepper notes that, while most sophomores in Currier will enjoy a spacious single, there are 15 corner rooms that are "occasionally" employed as sophomore doubles. PFORZHEIMER. Pforzheimer House offers a bit more variety than Currier and accommodates sophomores in groups of two, three and four. Although the likelihood of a sophomore single "varies greatly" according to the Assistant to the Masters Sharon Holt, many of the suites are designed to accommodate an (n+1) number of students. "Because we have so many good rooms," boasts Holt, "students typically know which rooms they'll choose before the lottery." The abundance of desirable housing cuts down on scheming and room jockeying ploys during the upperclass rooming lottery, according to Holt. CABOT. Rooming. options facing the Cabot-bound are similarly stellar according to the higher ups. "Sophomores get either a single off a hallway," claims Assistant to the Masters Susan Livingston, "or a suite for an (n+1) number of people which are often partitioned." Sophomores willing to fund "renovations" rarely have to share a bedroom. Besides allowing partitioning, the House happily concedes to opening fire-doors between adjacent rooms, thereby creating complex suites with "essentially an extra bedroom." According to Livingston, however, "the hottest property in Cabot is the Library Suite in Briggs Hall," which is traditionally snagged by seniors early on in the lottery. Overlooking the grassy Quadrangle, the sweet suite is particularly suitable for large parties and has five bedrooms, a living room and a fireplace. OTHER THAN ORDINARY. The ample anomalies to traditional rooming setups create perhaps the most unique aspect of Quad housing. For example, the Jordan Co-Op is an extension of Cabot and houses about 30 students who rotate meal preparation duties and don't pay for Harvard board. Cabot residents desiring privacy also have the opportunity to share a wooden frame house with Senior Tutor Robert H. Neugeboren 83. This separate Cabot-affiliated residence is usually occupied by thesis-enamored seniors, although two sophomores are actually housed there this semester. Other anomalies of note are the top-floor Pforzheimer suites (which come with skylights) and the infamous Currier 10-man. Occupying space originally allotted for the House offices, the Currier suite includes ten singles and a large common area. 10-man resident Brian Friedman, '00, believes that the room has a particular social role on campus, which it has thus far dutifully upheld this year.