A cordial invitation to visit the dorms

I want Amy Gutmann to sleep over one night in my apartment. Now, I know that sounds a bit strange to most readers, with the exception of maybe the "Guys and Gals for Gutmann" group on thefacebook.com, but let me explain. I want to first make clear that I'm not harboring a strange Penn president fetish, though I must say President Gutmann does look rather enchanting in red.

However, I do want Amy (I hope it's OK that I call her Amy, considering we're having a sleepover) to experience the full gamut of Penn activities, which means seeing what on-campus dorm life has to offer. And what better way to do that than to be wined and dined in Harnwell College House, which for the past two months has had men precariously hanging on scaffolding outside my window, jackhammering concrete.

I'm not picky about a specific evening, though Tuesdays are usually pretty good. I'm just hoping that Amy will take me up on my offer before it gets drafty. Otherwise, all I have to say is: Amy, please bring a coat or two to bundle up. Who knows whether the heat will be on or whether the wind will blow in through the unsealed cracks in my windows. Better safe than sorry!

One time last year, we didn't have heat well into, well, winter. And then when we got back from winter break, the pipes burst and, well, Amy, it was just a disaster! Talk about not wanting to wear your suede Ugg boots in the hallways! It was like that scene in Titanic with Jack and Rose slogging through corridors, only I don't think any laptops were ruined on the Titanic. Wear long johns or those chemical heaters you can put in your shoes. No space heaters, though! Since I've already planned the "Truth or Dare," the popcorn and the nail polish, I'm hoping you won't back out now. I'm patiently awaiting your knock on my door.

I've already got the itinerary planned in my mind. You will arrive at my high rise, where you will wait patiently in the lobby for me to sign you in. Unfortunately, three of the elevators will be broken, and the fourth will only stop on even floors divisible by four but not six, so you'll probably hang out down there for quite some time. May I suggest bringing some reading material?

I'll sign you in after you produce your passport, driver's license, social security card and second grade report card, and we'll make our way back up to my room. I apologize for the smell in the hallway. It's what I call "Eau de Harnwell," a mix of elevator, sewage and trash chute. I plan to bottle it in the spring and sell it on Locust Walk.

Then, we'll enter my bodacious abode. The faint smell of rainwater permeates my room, left over from the hurricane last week, for which I apologize. The carpet's still a little damp too. If you can this semester, increase Facilities' budget so that they'll have the proper resources to respond to torrential downpours, or at least trickles.

Now that we're in, I have a little game when I get home that I like to call "Spot the Creatures." As I flick on the lights, you get down on your hands and knees and watch the little roaches scatter! Then we'll spray them together and breathe in the fumes. Deep, now. Nothing like good ol' Raid to get the juices flowin'. I'm sorry, you won't be able open the windows to dissipate the odor. They've been sealed shut. Luckily for us, though, the edges of the windows aren't caulked! Yay!

We'll laugh and watch fuzzy cable reception and make popcorn and paint toenails and read Cosmo quizzes and search for hot guys on the Facebook. Finally, I'll tuck you in on the couch and wish you sweet dreams and make my way to the bed.

FIRE ALARM! Oh no, Amy, get up! Someone must have pulled the switch. It's so late, get out of bed! Let's get into the stairwell quick. We will sit hunched over and droopy-eyed on the cold concrete until we get the all clear. False alarm. Oh no, I forgot my keys. Back down to the lobby, sign out the keys, wait for the elevator -- it never comes so we walk up the 14 flights. No need for the gym now, eh?

The next morning, the construction rooster crows and cackles early. Unfortunately, the water in the building has been turned off with no explanation. I scramble up some eggs and toast while you open the blinds and stare out at the beautiful Philadelphia morning. Staring back at you are men on scaffolds who are sloughing off concrete. You wave. They wave back.

During Convocation this year, you mentioned a new freshman, George, who spent his summer building water reservoirs so the people in his village in Africa could have running drinking water. Do you think now that George is at Penn, he could possibly work on the high rises, too?

Melody Joy Kramer is a junior English major from Cherry Hill, N.J. Perpendicular Harmony appears on Wednesdays.

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