It’s impossible to miss the cranes and piles of rubble that trample over where our beloved Mahoney-Pearson residential halls used to stand.
We may not live there anymore, but we will never forget all the things that really made it feel like home.
I mean, seriously, what would we have done without the water dripping from the vents above our heads while we slept? Or the occasional hospital visit from mold poisoning?
And nothing screamed “you look great” quite like the green or fleshy pink bathroom tile. No matter how good you thought you looked before walking in, one glance in that mirror was enough to make you question whether you were coming down with something … again.
Maybe MP’s greatest gift of all was the sense of community that came from knowing we were all in it together. Centennial Village may have shiny new rooms and no mold, but we had each other and superiority complexes built entirely around being “more social.”
But it was true. Doors were always open, music was always playing and people were always around to lend you a going-out top or some snacks.
Then there were the gliders.
During the day, they were the perfect place to sit outside and pretend to do homework. At night, they became the spot to recap everything that happened while eating Taco Bell you definitely did not need.
And who can forget the time the outdoor ceiling collapsed right where many of those gliders used to be?
On the weekends, there was nothing better than making the trek to late-night dining in pajamas and slippers with your friends. It wasn’t glamorous, but neither was MP — and that was kind of the point.
Mahoney-Pearson may officially be rubble now, but for everyone who called it home, it will always be the place where some of our best college memories began.
So, goodbye MP. You were outdated, questionable and occasionally hazardous to our health, but you were ours.