From Waffles to Whitman

Move-in, 2007: I parked in Lot 23 and walked up the familiar slope of Elm Drive. I could see piles of rubble from the destruction of the Butler Quad from far away, and I immediately felt a sense of loss, of sadness. Lourie-Love Hall — my home for freshman year — was gone, though its spirit hung stale in the air. Standing in front of Wu Hall, looking in through the peephole in the fence, I saw the crater where my building had stood and the agents of its destruction: the mechanical earth-movers and wrecking balls.

Turning, I faced the facade of Whitman, imposing and towering in its grandeur. I crossed Elm and walked into the complex. Standing on freshly laid sod, trees towered above me. I felt a pinch of disbelief –– could this be real?

Whitman has generated more hype, at least in some campus circles, than the iPhone. It has also spurred similar behavior: While consumers camped out in front of Apple stores to purchase the company's latest device, members of the Class of 2010 stood in long lines last spring to sign up for a lottery to move into the college. Crazed Whitman hopefuls were known to cry in hysterics after learning they did not win the raffle. In addition to desperate desire, Whitman sparked a flurry of rumors as its construction neared completion. Some of the craziest involved snipers on the roofs, a stone drawbridge near Spelman Halls and a moat full of alligators.

As I finally stood in the center of the Lower Quad, I wondered: Would Whitman live up to all the hype — and all the rumors?

An exploratory journey through the bowels of Whitman led me to appreciate its many state-of-the-art features, but I also felt an occasional twinge of nostalgia for the eccentricities of Butler, especially its storied waffle ceilings.

Inside South Baker Hall, the corridors were well-lit and spacious. Walking the length of the hallway, I was shocked not to find a bathroom in the middle of my path. As a former Butlerite, I am used to having to walk through bathrooms when I traverse my dorm's corridors. In Whitman, by contrast, the bathrooms are located to the side of the hallway. Though this setup makes dorm navigation more efficient, it removes the bathroom as a place of social discourse. Many a time last year I would wander into the men's room and chat with my hallmates as we waited for the stall or the shower. At one point during the year, we brought in cushions and set up the counter as a lounge. Quirky as it might seem, I will sorely miss this kind of experience.

Also absent from Whitman are the nuclear attack preparedness labels affixed to each freestanding closet in Butler. These stickers described what to do in the event of a nuclear attack –– I guess the University's leadership in 1964 considered nuclear holocaust more imminent than the present administration does.

While Whitmanites may be the first to go in a nuclear strike, at least we will be able to exit our rooms quickly during a fire. Like all other dorms on campus, Whitman dorms are affixed with the sticker stating, "Nothing may be attached to either side of this door. It is a means of egress and must be visibly recognizable as such at all times." Means of egress are a way of life at Princeton. In my building in Whitman, there are not one, but two laundry rooms, both with working dryers. This may surprise those acquainted with the less-than-reliable Butler laundry facilities. Also in the laundry room is a working fire extinguisher. In the basement of Whitman are a dance room, a print cluster and a digital photo lab. Imagine — printing photos in my own building.

Community Hall, the Hogwarts-style dining room, is another Whitman perk. When overcrowding occurs, the dining hall will go on a pass system, much like the bicker clubs on Thursday and Saturday nights. Sunday brunch will be on double-pass.

One thing the college lacks is an exercise room. In addition to a TV room and cafe, Lourie-Love had the only exercise room in Butler College. Admittedly, its exercise equipment consisted of a rusted stationary bike used as the door prop.

Though it may lack rusted exercise bikes to keep its residents fit, Whitman will keep its residents cool, with thermostats in each room.

As I sit in my quad on our 1960s-vintage olive-green couch, looking out at the plush grass of the Lower Quad, I know that I've gone from rags to riches — from waffles to Whitman.