The Flat

I think it's fate. I'm from Illinois, a region known for being flat, and I go to UK and live in a flat. 

This'll be all over the place. I'm just letting thoughts come out as they will.

Saturday was Freshers move-in day. Freshers are freshman. I don't know if they skip junior or sophomore but UK students only go for three years. There's all sorts of Peer Guides, easily identifiable by their purple shirts. Tyler was wearing a purple shirt too, but I wouldn't let him guide me anywhere. Actually most of these guides don't know what they're doing. I've asked two of them questions and they couldn't help me. It's an odd feeling seeing them guiding Freshers while they have a cigarette burning in their hand. You wouldn't see that in America. Smoking is nearly taboo now, a shameful act that robs the criminal of basic human rights. Not really, but it's getting to be that way. 

The Freshers in my hall are pretty quiet. I've met two, but I think one lives elsewhere and was helping his friend move in. I met the one who lives here twice. First I was waiting for my pizza to cook. The timer had two minutes left and he walked in with his friend and shook my hand before ever saying hello. I don't like shaking hands. He had a tattoo on his right shoulder that was covered by his baby-doll type sleeve. It was odd seeing him wear a shirt like that. He was tall for a Brit, and taller than me. He looked bigger than he actually was though. I still don't know his name. He's a bit awkward, or maybe just because I'm awkward. 

I hear him in the halls. He calls me the American. He knows my name, he said it once to a girl, but I don't remember his. I should. I probably didn't understand it the first time he said it and I can't ask now. But a girl asked who's bread this was? And he said not his, maybe the American's. He's been here a week. That's what he said. 

The kitchen is right by my room. Whenever I enter or exit my room, there's always someone in it but they're never cooking. They say hello to me as I pass and I say hello back but I never got a good look at any of them. Maybe they're waiting. I always hear them talking. I can't understand through the walls and doors and their accents, but at night a couple--a guy and a girl--sit in there and talk. They've done it a few nights now. I can't understand them but I know they're flirting. I can't pick out flirting easily, but maybe I pay too much attention to the words and now all I hear is tone, and this tone is flirty. 

On Fresher move-in day I wrote this a minute after it happened:

To get into the building you need a "Wave card." It's a card that you wave in front of a sensor and it lets you in, if the name wasn't clear enough for you. Then to use the elevator you have to scan it again, and to get into each hall (each floor has two halls) you have to scan it again, and finally to get into the room you have to scan it again. It makes the buildings very secure, but a pain in the ass for visitors. It'd be easier to call your friend so they can come let you in. 

So when I heard this knock-knock-knocking, I figured it was someone from another room in the hallway trying to reach a friend or something. I don't know; I wasn't about to answer it so I came up with whatever excuse would free me from responsibility. It wouldn't matter if I let them in the hall because they still couldn't get into their room without the card. They'd have to go to the security lodge either way. But this knock-knock-knocking went on for ten minutes then stopped. I figured someone else finally let them in. 

Nope. Ten minutes later it was back. I waited for three knock-knock-knocks (because it was never more than three raps on the door) before I got up and dealt with it. I grabbed my wave card and went down the hall. There's no windows on the door into the hall so you can't even see who wants in. There's a peep hole but I didn't use it. I just opened it for two asians--a boy and girl. 

They said thank you and sorry for bothering me and whatever else, and I said sure. I figured the knock-knock-knocking was over and I could get back to my journal writing. I got into my room, sat on the bed, took up my pen and put the journal on my lap. I read where I had left off so I wouldn't forget anything and...

Knock-knock-knock. "Shu-shen?" I don't know Chinese (or Korean or whatever oriental language it was) so I can't spell the name or word, but it sounded like "Shu-shen" when they said it a second time and knock-knock-knocked again. They pounded at the door, called his name, then left. Apparently they thought he'd hear this knock-knock-knocking more clearly than the knock-knock-knocking on the hall door. Never did they think that he wasn't answering the hall door because he wasn't in his room. So they left.