Rez rebellion results in transfer


Dear Mom,

I have been officially kicked out of my residence. WAIT! Let me explain … publicly that is. I figure I am going to be explaining this to a lot of people, so now I can direct them towards this article and completely forgo all human interaction. Yay, technology.

It all began with something known as Hawk Weekend. Ultimately, Hawk Weekend is a brief re-visitation of orientation week for first-year students. Everyone is divided up into their respective residences and games are played, chants are shouted and, inevitably, pranks are formulated.

I belong to the one and only all-guys residence know as Little House. I did not choose to be in an all-guys residence when applying (and I hope that was the case for everyone else) but shit happens, and after shit happens you flush the toilet, hopefully wash your hands and move on with life. Besides, it isn’t as bad as it sounds. The guys are cool and hardly any time is spent inside that testosterone hole anyway.

During Hawk Weekend, Conrad, one of the two all-girls residences, decided to sneak into our building late at night and paint our windows as well as other cute girl-like pranks. Posters were made, glitter and stickers were part of the process, I’d assume. Anyway, retaliation was the obvious thought.

The following night, a large group of guys, including myself, came together to devise a plan. When a large group of a guys come together a lot of food is consumed, a lot of Xbox is played and very little productivity is achieved. The final consensus was to circle the parameter of their residence and hopefully sneak at least one guy inside so that he can let in the rest; we would then form more of a plan once we all got inside.

Was it a weak idea? Yes. Was it also three in the morning though? Yes. So the Little House boys stormed out and to our surprise every single entrance was guarded by girls, most of whom were fully equipped with snowballs, most of which contained sharp ice. We attempted to fight back, but it was a relatively warm night and apparently they preserved snow from the previous week. I don’t really know how to explain the snow.

The night resulted in nothing — excluding some running, yelling and little bit more running, nothing was done. I considered going Trojan: secretly filling up a wooden horse with Little House boys and offering it to them as a gift, but I didn’t have the time or the supplies. A tremendous amount of respect should be given to the Conrad girls; they kept a solid and consistent night-watch routine throughout the entire night. We went back to our residence and slept.

The following morning seven boys had notes posted on their doors reporting them to meet with residence council regarding their actions at Conrad residence; only seven out of the large group that participated in the attempted prank had notes on their door. I was one of them. We, as group, met with our residence head co-ordinator and explained to her how we were unable to enter the building, let alone produce a successful prank. She informed us that toilets were flooded in Conrad residence and someone was running through the halls. Maybe some girl ate Mexican food that night and took it out on the toilets, and maybe that person “running through the halls” was simply appropriately reacting to a washroom flood.

Regardless of what happened, we did not enter the building. She gave us each a sheet of paper explaining how our “behaviour was very irresponsible and had the potential to hurt others,” as well as assigning us clean up duties to conclude Hawk Weekend. I did not attend this clean-up party because I did nothing but scream, run and take a snowball to the face. Also, I forgot.

Well that clean-up party was mandatory and my residence head co-ordinator was not happy; however, that was not the final blow. After returning from the meeting, I proceeded to highlight the part of the paper stating that I “was very irresponsible” and potentially “hurt others” and then stuck that on the front of my door, ironically, for everyone to see.

It was humourous for the boys knowing that we didn’t do anything that night, but it was also deemed disrespectful. I probably should have just shut the fuck up and cleaned.

So there it is Mom; that is the entire story. I am a bad influence to the boys on my floor, therefore I am being relocated to the residence across the parking lot ⎯ Mac House. Oh, and it’s a residence with girls. I’ll take it.

Sincerely, your rebellious son,

Michael Porfirio

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