Just the other day I walked into the men’s restroom on the ground floor and when I looked up – there was no ceiling.
Another gentleman walked in behind me, looked up at the ceiling-less room in confusion, looked at me, and then walked out. I was a little confused too, but I just went ahead and finished my business as I stared up into Eddy’s ugly concrete foundation.
Obviously he didn’t realize that something like this was pretty normal at Eddy.
If this happened to me at any other building on campus, I would have left and found another restroom. However, it was Eddy Hall, and almost nothing about that place surprises me anymore.
It’s not air-conditioned. The hallways are infuriatingly small and cramped during passing periods. The “renovations” made to the building a few years ago were a nice gesture toward the College of Liberal Arts, but they didn’t fool anybody.
New chairs, carpets, dry-erase boards and stylistic wooden cutouts on the walls cannot take away from the horrendous structure that is Eddy Hall.
As a senior and a student who spends a good amount of time in the building, it’s fair to say that I’ve seen both the good and the bad.
Besides going to class, the printing lab on the third floor is my primary reason for strutting around Eddy. If there is one redeeming factor to the Eddy building at all, it has got to be the free printing lab for liberal arts majors and minors.
Although the trek up to the third floor is quite arduous for a guy like me — always breaking a sweat as I walk into the lab — I have to say I do cherish the place. I feel quite at home amongst my fellow plebeians, printing out documents that we’ll probably forget to read and typing papers due in the next hour.
I thought everything was going well at the lab up until a few months ago. That’s when somebody had the great idea to make everyone who prints at Eddy sign a sheet stating your name (printed), the time, your CSU ID# (which I’m not sure should be publicly stated), your major/minor, the date, and finally: your signature.
Once you’ve completed signing this gauntlet, you can take a seat and print, or creep on Facebook, or whatever it is you do at Eddy.
At first I was incredibly irritated by this new procedure because every time before you print you also have to enter your Eid and password. If you aren’t enrolled in a liberal arts class you can’t print. To me, that system seems pretty foolproof, but apparently somebody thought that an extra layer of security would help.
After becoming annoyed while waiting in line at the front, I promptly took matters into my own hands when it was my turn to sign in. Pretty soon, the likes of Eminem, Skrillex, Ron Paul, Kevin Spacey, Barack Obama, and even Tony Frank were showing up to print.
Things went smoothly after I learned how to waltz my way around the pesky sign-in sheet, but Eddy had one final surprise waiting for me.
I rushed into the lab one day, needing to print one single page, but alas: my printing credits had run dry.
I quickly learned there was no way to replenish my printing quota. For a few hours I wandered campus, shell-shocked at my sudden and disheartening exile from the Eddy lab.
I sulked for a day or two, but eventually discovered another lab where I can print for free. I’m not going to name the lab in the interest that I continue printing for free there, but I will say pretty much everything about it is better than Eddy. The building is nicer, the computers, the printers, and even the women are better.
But it just doesn’t feel right.
I’m a total stranger at this new lab. Eddy’s characteristic scent of coffee and urine is gone, and I no longer see any cute hipster girls. I can’t walk around like I own the place, and I hate to say it, but I miss the sign-in sheet that so valiantly guards the Eddy lab.
I like to think of Eddy as a really old, ugly dog that just keeps wagging its tail. No matter how many times it’s peed on your bed, you have to smile and give it a pat on the back.