Stimson. Plain and docile by day. Dark and menacing at night. She was top dog, with a dining hall and large complex of resident houses to boot; Stimson Hall was Goucher’s former glory, now being forcefully put to rest.
Camera, notebook, and buddy in hand, we walked past the darkened dining hall and Hillel lounge, once central, lively hubs of Goucher’s campus, now an abandoned ghost town, yearning to be used again.
Getting into Stimson Hall itself was easy, but getting into the residence house was not nearly so easy thanks to the hate crime. After trying just about every door to every house, someone kindly let us into Wagner.
Even after exploring Stimson at the beginning of last semester, I still tentatively wandered through dimly lit, incredibly narrow staircases and a few unlit corridors. I felt thankful I brought someone with me to face Stimson’s quiet, menacing, institutionalized vibe. After all that wandering and jumping at every possible sound (next Halloween they should totally make shut-down Stimson a haunted house), I ended up on the fourth floor. I opened up the tall, slender bathroom door.
“Screw this,” my fragile, meek freshman self said as the door came to an abrupt close behind us. I think it has become apparent to you, the readers, that Stimson genuinely creeps me out, and her bathrooms were no exception. The dim lighting, yellowed atmosphere and weird, cramped layout left me shaking in my mortal skin. The mirror and sinks, though they were old and had weak water pressure (a consistent thing on this campus), were decently clean. The exception to that being what looked like a dining hall chocolate cupcake was left, completely obliterated in one of the sinks.
The darkened toilet stalls definitely made getting business done tough, but those who reside here had adapted to these dank circumstances, because they were also surprisingly clean. No jizz, and little-to-no pee doused the toilet seats; it was a content feeling to see basic hygiene being practiced.
I noted the yellowed cubby shelves I kind of wish the First Year Village bathrooms had. I moved to the dreadful, mysterious looking shower area. I pulled back the slightly damp, aged plastic shower curtain to reveal ancient tile and caved-in stand-up shower floors.
“This whole bathroom makes me feel like I’m in a mental institution,” my buddy said as they stepped in and inspected the odd-looking showers. Tuning out the transitioning rant about how they would rather not be institutionalized, I hesitantly turned towards the bathtub, expecting something much grosser than I found, as it was creepy but clean.
After surveying the whole bathroom, the corridor I had to walk back down to get back to Stimson’s main area became suddenly unlit. I gripped my poor buddy’s arm as we slowly made our way back to the staircase. I jumped into my buddy at every rattle, creak, groan, and door slam, but eventually began to breathe again when I made it back to the common area.
I would give the entire bathroom an 11/10 for being so creepy, and 5.5/10 for being cleanliness, which shouldn’t have surprised me because anyone who isn’t a freshman takes care of the living spaces they’ve been given. 🙂
