Wilma Longbottom (‘17) was only looking for a bathroom last Sunday when she ran across something much greater.
“I’d chugged a few Nantucket Nectars that morning, so I was about to burst with no refuge in sight. Then suddenly a gender-neutral restroom appeared in place of a library carrel. I was floored. Funniest thing though, I never did find it again.”
Like something out of a children’s novel about a school of witchcraft and wizardry, the space that some have dubbed “The Room of Respite” only appears when students need it the most.
Because the room’s location remains secret and ever-changing, we couldn’t investigate it ourselves. Fortunately, several students who have encountered the Room of Respite have come out of the woodwork to give us the inside scoop.
“I have three take-homes and an essay due this week, so I really needed a place to have a good panic-cry for about four hours,” reported Elena Jones (‘18), “On a whim I opened a mysterious door that I’d never seen before and entered a room full of two-ply tissues, punching bags, and shoulders to cry on! That ended up being a really good day.”
Misery isn’t all the room is good for. Other eyewitness accounts report it turning into a haven for sexiled vagabonds, an affordable restaurant that actually caters to the college demographic, and “just a chill place to pop open a beer and watch the game.”
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the Room of Respite is its dual-purpose of also being a holding room for all of Davidson’s lost and forgotten items.
Frank Clodman (‘19) describes one of his ventures to the room:
“I’m always loosing my cat card, so I go there all the time. My card is always there, along with a ton of other crap no one remembers. Left socks, transfer students, teacher evaluation forms. You name it, the room has got it!”
A spokesperson from RLO was questioned about the room, but refused to comment and excused himself to “make some calls about a possible solution to the impending housing crisis inevitable when the juniors come back from abroad.”