A Lot Can Happen in Ten Floors
On contemplating Cultural Encounters, several reluctantly came to mind. Mind – where was my mind? It is always scattered, like the walls of my room. My room is a scant little cubicle of a place to rest my head. My room screams of clutter, of personality, of sarcasm, of home. But as soon as I walk out my door (the strenuous three foot walk), I am met with a busy avenue of other scatterbrains: the Tenth Floor.
I never dreamt of being this close to a group of people, but I am (like it or not). Day in and day out, my family runs around the halls doing goodness knows what. Madness ensues on the tenth floor at all hours of the week – and boy, are we proud. Our little melting pot of floor-mates does a lot together: share bathrooms, and breakup stories, and food outings, and stories of home. Every day is a cultural encounter for us. I live next door to an Asian boy, across the hall from an African American and a Venezuelan. On my other side is a girl from Michigan who can never say the word “fire” correctly. Next door to her is a Russian guy from Brighton Beach, who shares a bathroom with a musician from Westchester. My closest friends are Mexican, Puerto Rican, Italian, and who knows what else.
We eat together; we scream together, we pretend to do homework together. We sit in the halls together. Every time I open the door, another adventure awaits me. I decided to document some of the strange happenings that occur right outside my door, with the emblem of our floor in view at all times: a sign that reads, “A Lot Can Happen On Ten Floors.” Home made, of course. It’s our equivalent of a “Home Sweet Home” welcome mat.
Our sign greets us as we get off the elevator, and salutes us as we leave for school in the morning. It overlooks some nerf-gun fights and some other kinds of fights. It hears our juicy stories and our incessant whines about homework.
Much like my lonely tree, I stuck around to see what our welcome mat could see. I’ve seen people help others with homework, teach others to dance, learn Chinese phrases while eating Mexican food, sign up for classes together, cry about classes together, procrastinate for classes together. With this many people in such a tiny space, you’re bound to rub elbows with every different kind of person eventually.
In the dorms, I have met art interns from France with dreamy eyes, walking-dead studiers with even dreamier eyes, and sports players with dreams in their eyes. The halls of 101 Ludlow directly reflect the fleeting city outside its walls. The Lower East Side has become our playground, and it is interesting how each one of us plays differently.
In my collage, I’ve documented some of our playtime for the world to see. I hope you enjoy our nonsense of the Tenth Floor. We’re kind of a big deal.
