Memo to all literate people: I’ve met angels. They’re right here on campus. Right now you may be asking yourself “what kind of lunatics do the folks at THE HOYA get to write these Viewpoints?” But to explain, I’ll backtrack a few months.

OK, it’s true. In the halcyon days of spring semester 2003 with winter over, school coming to an end and figurative birds sitting on my shoulder chirping bird tunes, it came as a bit of a (i.e. major) disappointment when it was all too apparent that I would be living in the renowned Darnall Hall for my sophomore year. It turned out that it really didn’t matter if I wanted to throw parties on a rooftop with a beautiful view of the District, or be near a “square” dedicated to alumni of this great university or have a window overlooking the usually green, currently brown, Copley Lawn. Instead, due to random lottery calculations, sinister under-the-table dealings and plain circumstance, the comfy (i.e. minute) confines of “Village D” became home sweet home.

Lady Luck was obviously vacationing rather than helping me out during this whole time, and like most college kids, you found me moaning and groaning about theories and events I couldn’t possibly change. After spending a month here, however, I have come to a conclusion about this whole matter. Keep your muddy lawn. Keep your cliched rooftop parties. Keep your off-campus apartment escapades. I’ve got something none of you have right here in little ol’ underrated Darnall. Angels – and not just one . two of them. Eerily, they are right here – less than 50 steps from where I wake up, study, write and sleep. I am not talking about any Disney-owned 2002 World Series Champion baseball professionals either. I am talking about honest to God “benevolent celestial beings” who “… manifest goodness, purity and selflessness” according to our friends at dictionary.com.

And it certainly makes perfect sense; of course angels wouldn’t party it up anywhere else on campus but Darnall. It fits the whole being-humble-and-gracious-in-lowly-situations aspect of heavenly beings. And just to clarify, these two nameless beings don’t walk around with wings flared and blinding light emanating from their bodies. Not at all. They look just like any other human walking around. So at first I – being the normal non-angelic person that I am – didn’t notice. In ignorant fashion on my part, that first community floor meeting involved me dreading endangered social status and missing luckier friends on the other side of campus than thinking about the inhabitants of Darnall. “The American taxpayers are not paying $40,000 for me to live here” was all I could think about.

Fortunately, the funk was soon lifted. Over the next couple of days, as I met person after person, exchanging names and histories with strangers in the hall, I realized that two of my “lucky” floor mates were beyond anyone or anything I’ve ever came into contact with before. When I first realized this, I had a spirited conversation online with my best friend back home:

“Hey Erick, two of my friends on this floor are so . remarkably amazing!”

“Oh really, now?”

“Yeah! One of them is such a darling go-getter, always on the move for the betterment of self and society. The other reminds me of friends back home. Full of wit, sarcasm and an absolute divine pleasure to be around! Really, they’ve gotta be bona fide angels!”

“Looks like the fast life of collegiate drug use and alcohol abuse has gotten to you, Chenel.”

“No hater, it’s true!”

I don’t know if you’ve ever had emotion like this before. Maybe when you SFSers thought getting that one B in Calculus BC after four years of straight A’s would bar you to a state school, only to find out that you surprisingly got accepted to Georgetown University anyway . maybe the tear soaked envelope brought out emotion that can compare . barely.

Who would have thought the unassuming structure between Henle Village and the hospital parking lot would bring to me something better than any living room space or suite could bring? It certainly doesn’t matter who these angels are; just the fact that they are there makes the Darnall experience worth it 10 times over. So in turn, I arrogantly declare that you can keep all your perks, your new dorms and open spaces. The American taxpayers didn’t pay $40,000 to have me suffer through two unbearable semesters. Georgetown University didn’t build Darnall in 1966 knowing that they needed at least one stereotypical “bad dorm.” The people involved – possibly by design, more likely just by accident, maybe with some heavenly intrusion – placed me in “Village D” to prove that it’s not the place that matters, but the people. Or in my case, the two angels sent from heaven.

Chenel Josaphat is a sophomore in the School of Foreign Service.

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