I know that people puke and do silly things when they get drunk. Heck, it's quite hilarious and a little bit sad when you see half a dozen handles crammed into a recycling bin, or some friends do their best rendition of Don't Stop Believing. Puking isn't particularly great, but that's generally fixable.
Then there's things that leave lasting scars. Puke can be wiped up. Hangovers wear off. But breaking stuff doesn't.
There is ONE table in the parlor (the common area). It is the ONLY table that is a good height and size for studying. In our rooms, the desks are tiny, and after you put a laptop and a lamp there, there's precious little room for anything else. Plus, our rooms are tiny, which allows the stench of 95 generations of students and their accidents to accumulate in unfortunately high concentrations. Moreover, the room are dark, and having the table under a lofted bed makes it worse. Its surprising how important a good environment is to studying.
Anyways, about that one table. It's about the size of a good office desk, or rather three or four times the size of the desk in my room where I am now. It's faux wood and semi-collapsible, but its pretty heavy and a pretty high quality collapsible table-- much better than the tiny desks in our rooms. The legs are a bit odd and twisted (they remind me a bit of a writing desk), and the table surface is smooth and shiny and heavy.
I like to sit in an armchair and study there with all my papers spread out, and sometimes one or two other friends share the table with me. The parlor is not particularly well-lit, but then again, my room isn't either. Still, its quiet, peaceful and nice- perhaps the only part of the residence hall that is so. Downstairs, there is a study room but its not much better than my room, and there are always a number of international Chinese students loudly complaining about everything. It's a bit awkward to be eavesdropping on them, because they're convinced I'm Korean though I'm actually Chinese (Taiwanese).
Well, the table is no more. Today I walked into the parlor and the table was broken. The surface had been ripped off the legs somehow, exposing the two screw plates that had once held the table together. Seriously why the fuck would you do that? Now I have nowhere to study. Plus, everyone in the residence hall is probably going to have to help pay for the table. If I ever find the fucker who broke the table, I'm going to beat him with what's left of it and may God have mercy on his butthole.