Rats in a Cage

It would seem that the more that individuals are packed into tight quarters the more they are apt to do something stupid.  It is as though a cosmic equation in which we cannot define the variables facilitates such behavior.  But we do know the variables.  Tight quarters plus people equal stupid, uncontrollable actions.  I get my information not from living in a large apartment – as such a structure would be the opposite of variable A (tight quarters) – but from living in the college-life dormitory, the good American tradition of cramming as much people together as possible and robbing you blind at the same time.  Currently, the dormitory in which I reside has gone from an all male facility to one that is coed.  While most on my side of the species would be praying to the gods that they now don’t have to walk 150 yards to be in the proximity of females, I don’t know if I’m exactly excited about the probable lawsuits that could ensue by stuffing 90 people together with raging hormones.  I’m all for females.  They’re beautiful; poetry in motion.  However, if putting a cow in a pasture filled with bulls is any indication, there will be “mounting” problems.  Sexual harrasment will most likely sky-rocket.  We’ll just have to sit back and see about that one I suppose.  Hopefully these kids will have grown a little over the summer and have lost the caveman complex normally associated with the late-teens/early-twenties crowd.  While they don’t have to drag their catch by the hair as far as they used to (up the stairs as opposed to across the lawn), a little civility would be appreciated; at least whine and dine the poor girl first.  There have also already been the occasional “yippie-holy-crap-we’re-girls-and-something-has-excited-us-so-we’ll-screetch-like-badgers” scream emanating from around the building.  I couldn’t tell if some girl had just got engaged or if someone was checking the smoke detectors.  It sounded about the same.  All of this excitement will allow for some interesting moments, if not scandals, police reports, and fires.  Let’s just hope no one drops the curling iron in the shower.