Harvard students constantly complain about campus party facilities--most party-goers end up hot and sweaty after being stuffed like sardines into small angular suites with little ventilation.

Every so often, though, the truly random Harvard architecture miraculously forms a logical space for social gatherings. These spaces become renowned and students flock to them on weekend nights.

The following have proven to be this year's party suites--meaning that through tradition, or deliberate manipulation, their residents have a space that is earmarked for the all-too-rare raging Harvard beerfest.

Winthrop Seven-Man

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Extending the entire length of the fifth floor of Winthrop House's Standish Hall, this suite is considered the best senior room on the River.

Behind the door lie seven singles that come off the 65-foot hall. And on the other side of the sizeable common room--perfect for dancing and socializing--is the room's largest bedroom.

Through the window of this bedroom is a balcony that residents have used during the warmer months.

"In the beginning of the year we had a barbecue, so everyone was eating burgers and franks," says Caleb A. Gibson '99, who lives in the grandest bedroom, which he has furnished with a couch, chair and coffee table.

Because of his palatial bedroom with accompanying balcony, Gibson says he can throw his own private parties without disturbing any of his roommates.

The seven-man offers extra rooms other lavish Harvard suites can't offer. A small closet area many people would call a coatroom is the residents' "keg room," where they keep a kegerator, a refrigerator that keeps cold beer on tap all the time.

The suite's benefits even extend beyond the room itself.

"It has amenities that lend itself to a social center, like it connects to a triple below us with a ladder," says George W. Hicks '99, another seven-man resident.

But Gibson says they have not attempted any two-floor parties yet for fear of people falling off the ladder. But the set-up does allow them to socialize with their fourth floor friends.

Currier 10-Man

As any Quad resident knows, it can be a challenge to convince River dwellers to make the trek up Garden Street. But the parties in the Currier 10-man have been doing it successfully for years.

"It's probably the largest private common room on campus," says Daniel A. Coll '99 of his coveted suite.

Basically, size is the main draw. The residents pack people onto the large dance floor in the suite's common room.

And the party tradition has ceded additional amenities to this social life hot spot. Some residents a few years back bought a bar, which now comes with the room, warning students to either hold parties or move out.

The current residents decided they needed a pool table for an area that "looked bare" and, of course, the requisite kegerator.

Coll says he cannot imagine a way to improve the room's party aptitude.

"We pretty much have a good set-up. We're right at the entrance to Currier," Coll says. "There's a big room, a bar and a kegerator."

Kirkland Swamp

There are two main theories behind why the infamous seven-man suite on the second floor of the I-entryway is called the "Swamp," according to resident Justin D. Lerer '99.

The first is that it is a jibe at the "stupid" layout. The Swamp is composed of three suites, each with two bedrooms off a common room, and a bathroom. The three common rooms adjoin through fire doors.

The second tale, which Lerer says he would like to believe, is that it has been a party spot for years.

"In the 70s, it was so drenched in beer that there was a low level throughout the room," says Lerer, who is also a Crimson editor.

Andrew D. Hackbarth '99 says he has proof of the latter theory.

"Our first year it was all grimy and stinky. There were layers and layers of party beer on the floor," Hackbarth says. "The floor had a special texture. It became part of the wood."

The idea that the layout is "stupid" for living arrangements may be true, but it is ideal for throwing parties.

Each common room can be used for a different type of music or ambiance. And the extra doors that lead out into the hallway improve traffic flow.

"We have this bench which can act as a stage for stage diving and there are bedrooms that can have other uses," says Lee H. Green '99 of the room's other attractions.

And like their Currier counterparts, one of the greatest assets is the inheritance that comes with the suite.

"The guys we got a room from built a bar from scratch and wood," Hackbarth says.

The current residents' decorating skills have also added to the festive atmosphere. They wrote the word "Swamp" on the wall using laundry detergent. The oozy letters glow when residents turn on a black light.

Kirkland 10-Man

A rookie to the Harvard party scene, the newly minted Kirkland 10-man was born when a group of gregarious sophomores scoured blueprints of Kirkland House to find their dream home.

"It is usually two different rooms, and we invented the Kirkland 10-man," Francis X. Leonard '01 says.

This year's residents melded two normally four-person suites together to make the 10-man.

The blocking group has named every room in the housing assignment.

When people first walk in, they enter the "anteroom," where people leave their coats. The next room is the "parlor," which usually houses a TV and video game area, but during parties, clears out and is the dance floor, complete with DJ and kegs.

That room is followed by the bathroom, which the roommates had to make a walk-through for the sake of their party arrangements. Next is the "observatory," the tiny enclosure covered with glow-in-the-dark stars and other constellations where the sky is not actually visible.

"We wanted to make even the smallest spaces nice," Leonard says. "It's just one of those things that's cool to show people."

After passing through a walk-through bedroom, another sacrifice, the room opens into the "study." The same size and dimensions as the parlor, this room houses the residents' desks and is a quieter place for talking during parties.

At the very back is a bedroom, which according to Leonard is for VIPs only.

"No one knows what's back there," he says.