Something New Around Every Corner

“This house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see.” 

From Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

During Orientation Week I have been placed in temporary housing because I'm slated to live off-campus. My housing assignment is conveniently located behind the Student Union and the Rootes Building, the two main buildings utilized this week. The building is generally well-cared for and clean. Yet the building's peculiarities immediately caught me off guard.
My initial struggle centered on the act of finding my room at all. According to my key I was assigned to stay in Rootes K17B, so with a little direction from a university staff I made it into the K Block and learned that my room was conveniently located on the first floor (in America we call it the second floor). That, however, was where the simplicity of the situation ended. Traditionally the rooms in multi-resident housing possess one of two number systems; even on one side of the hall, odd on the other or the numbers going down the hall on one side and back on the other. Central to both systems is the concept that it is easier to find a room if a certain numerical sequence is followed. I reached the first floor, followed the arrow indicating K16-21, walked past 21, 20, 19, 18...and found myself in J Block. OK, I must have missed something,  go back. I looked down a small passage and saw K16 on the door. Guess which two concerns rose to my mind at that moment? I'm sure you are wondering the same things I was at that moment - where is 17 and should I worry that I'm in 17B but none of the other rooms have a letter after the number?

Thankfully the housekeeper popped her head down the hallway at that moment and asked if I needed help. Not being one to turn down assistance I inquired after the location of 17B. "Down that passageway on the right." I glanced in the direction she pointed and found myself looking down a darkened hallway that had no  obvious doors other than one labeled Trunk Room. Trusting the lady knew of what she spoke, I bravely headed into the darkness.Two steps in and I saw 17A and upon turning right I saw 17B plainly on a door at the end of a short hall; then the little light there was promptly turned off.
I stood in the dark, fumbling with my key. Finally I get the key into the lock, pushed the door open, and breathed a sigh of relief upon finding myself looking at a bed (after being up for almost 24 hours there is nothing more beautiful). As lovely a sight as it was, rest assured fellow international travelers, I did not succumb to the temptation that the bed posed to my weary body but headed out again, this time in search of the toilet and shower.
An interesting aspect of basic British university housing (it may apply to other countries but I can only speak from my own experiences) is that the shared bathroom accommodation consist not of one large space with bathroom stalls, sinks, and showers - as is traditional in many American dorms - but many little rooms serving only a single purpose. First I found the toilets. After a two hour bus ride from London I made use of the facilities and then found myself in an interesting conundrum; there wasn't anything for me to dry my hands on. Being the resourceful person that I am, after washing my hands in a sing that reminded me in shape and size of a the spitting bowl at the dentist's office, I wiped my hands on my pants and called it good!
It was at that moment a thought hit me - I didn't have a towel with which to dry after I showered! This thought fermented as I went in search of the shower itself. As with the toilet, the room in which to shower resided barely allowed a person to get inside the room and shut the door without climbing into the tub. On the way back to my room I considered my options for the towel issue. After tossing several ideas around - such as air drying and not showering at all until my hotel on Friday (an idea I threw out in less time than it took you to read that sentence and crinkle your nose) - I decided that the only solution to my problem was to bring sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee-shirt with me and put it on my wet body, allowing them to soak up the water. In the end this solution worked surprisingly well! Once at my room I pulled my key from my pocket and as I went to insert it in the lock the light overhead turned off. Really!
After settling in a little bit more I headed towards the stairs to go out and grab lunch. As I reached to stairs I was stopped by a frazzled middle eastern student. "Do you know where room K37 is?" He inquired. Having experienced the labyrinth of a building in search of my own room I took pity on the poor guy. "I think it is on the 3rd floor," I told him as I walked over to the sign listing the rooms on each floor. "OK. So second is 26-34...so yeah, you're on third..." then I saw it, "third floor, 43-51. Where are 35-42?" I glanced over at the poor guy. "I can see where you're having trouble." Sure that there was a K37 I led the way up to the third floor. K37 was not no the third floor. Not to be deterred I used my deductive reasoning skills and headed to the second floor and promptly found his room down a random hall much like my own.
Proud of my success I headed back to my own room and, as I was pulling out my room key, promptly found myself in the dark...again. I let out an frustrated laugh; aren't sensors supposed to turn lights on when they sense movement, not turn them off? It was the icing on my accommodation cake and I succumb to the urge to laugh. Because, really, what else can one do in such a situation?