It is roughly that time of the semester when most freshmen make an important decision in their lives. They discern whether their respective roommates are future friends or sociopaths. There is little wiggle room on this one. Random room assignment affords us the unique opportunity to know our peers intimately whether or not we want to.
I have had my fair share of roommates. Freshman year I was blessed to have someone with whom I connected and we had a pleasantly uneventful year. Sophomore year, I had three crazy motherfuckers.

After the Fall

I would like to use the opportunity of this brief column to share my very personal, unfortunate experience in hope of dissuading the behavior that cut three lives short in one night.

It occurred this summer during my two months in Hong Kong. I was part of an international collegiate workshop whose design projects benefited an Asian hotel giant. Throughout the program we lived up to the cliché of working hard and partying harder: days were depleted in our windowless Kowloon studio and nights were spent on Hong Kong Island at the bars and clubs.