Coming to Butler's campus as a freshman, most of us probably dreaded our housing assignment. I patiently awaited the email which held all of the information concerning my living arrangements for the next year. Finally, a notification lit up my phone; I rushed to open it and find out my fate. I logged in as quickly as possible, and clicked on the link. It read "Ross Hall".
"You have GOT to be kidding me," was my initial reaction to this announcement. Ross Hall: the no-AC, communal bathroom, stinkbug infested, basement-flooding, hellhole. This could not be happening to me, why me?
I tried to stay positive for move-in day, eager to just settle in to my new square-shaped home. Through the sweaty expedition of rearranging furniture, unpacking my entire closet from packing boxes, and setting up all of my decor, I started to panic. This is going to be where I spend the majority of my year -- this sad and drabby little room. Again, why me?
While the first few weeks without AC were unbearable and I spent half of my Sunday taping the window screens down so no more stinkbugs would invade my living space, I eventually started to love living in Ross. The sense of community I felt throughout the halls was impressive. The first time I awkwardly strutted down the hallway in a towel, shower caddy weighing my arm down, I thought to myself "I cannot do this". The funny thing is, EVERYONE is thinking that.
Now, it has become fun to see the same people showering and brushing their teeth just because they are on the same schedule as you. These people begin to be those who brighten your day. Whether it be a smile, a conversation about the terrible dinner in Atherton the night before, or a compliment on my "really cute towel wrap", these are the gestures that kickstart my morning in the best way possible. I have found that living in Ross is like a badge of honor, something that connects you to all those upperclassmen who struggled through the daily quirks of communal living.
Ross is one of those places where you can bond over things like falling ceiling tiles, broken microwaves, and the 4 sinks that are out of order in the bathroom. Ross is the place where all the other freshman come to socialize. Ross is the place where you can always find a helping hand, a person to grab a coffee with, someone to walk with you to the library. It isn't just a residence hall; Ross is a community.
When I first heard people throwing around the term "Ross Love", I thought it was stupid. Just a tacky phrase to coerce us freshman into being excited about living in a 60 year old building that was cool because it had "history". But after experiencing about 4 months here, I can confidently report that this use of the phrase "Ross Love" is not some elaborate scheme. It is a real thing. Ross Love is people holding open doors, high fives from your neighbors when they finally see that your pizza (which you ordered 90 minutes ago) has decided to arrive and friendly conversations with the boy downstairs while you both wait on your Easy-Mac in the microwaves.
While you ResCo folks may have it made in the shade with your air conditioning and bathroom privacy, I wouldn't trade that seemingly terrible housing assignment email in my inbox for anything. So thank you, Butler housing department, for giving me the perfect gift I never knew I needed.