One night at about 2am as I was sleeping like baby, I heard a quick loud crunch of static, then an blood curdling demon hell scream blasting in my room at about 130 decibels. I jumped up terrified, but it stopped and I fell back into my vegetative state. The next day I didn’t even remember this event until my friend Emma asked me, “Did you hear that horrible screech on the intercom in our rooms last night?”
“No, what are you talking about?” I reply.
“I came on in all the rooms last night at around 2am.”
A cold shiver runs down my back as I scream like a little girl. “AHHhhh. Yes, I remember that now!”
A few nights later there was a going away party for some Spanish guy in the common room on the 12th floor. Some of the people from the previous semester are leaving and they have parties. I have never met these people and will never see them again, but a party is a party so I am there. At around 11:30 they began heading out to catch the last tram to city center. This party was moving to the club, but I decided to go to bed. My throat was really sore and I wasn’t in the mood for going out. I get ready for bed and chat with my roommate for a bit, then around 1 or 2am I lay down and turn off the light. About 2 minutes later the intercom blasts, “UWAGA UWAGA,” some angry sounding Polish stuff, then in English “this is an emergency situation, you must leave the building now, do not take the elevators.” Then there is a horrible sound like a 1950’s ambulance siren. I’m wearing only my athletic shorts, so in case the building is actually on fire I grab my most prized possessions in the room, my pimp shades (the green ones I had just bought the night before), and my ridiculous shiny teal and yellow hat. I put on my scarf coat and pink house slippers and go to the lobby. The alarm is going off for at least an hour and the lobby is packed with people. I’m talking with friends and joking around, but some people are really pissed off. My friend Georg is in the reception office while a few older Polish guys are messing with the alarm trying to turn it off. Georg has been here a year and a half already and knows the building well, and he speaks a bit of Polish. When the alarm finally gets shut off I ask Georg what the hell is going on. He says that 8 or so alarms went off at the same time and that’s why it was so much trouble.
I know the reputation of the Spanish, and since they were having a party tonight there is no doubt who is to blame. They have been known to destroy rooms and start fires in the past. The rumors I heard the next day were “one of the Spanish guys punched a smoke alarm.” Also I heard that one of them was smoking inside. I choose to believe the first story.
This place is nuts.
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