Dear Future Occupants of Room 417,

I would like to start this letter off with a short anecdote about four 18-year-olds, a couple cans of spray paint, and a dream. It feels like the easiest place to start, so why not?

When I first moved to the University of Alabama, I was nervous. Well, more than just nervous- I was freaking the hell out. Up until this point in my life, the longest I had spent away from my family was a week or two at most. Maybe I’m lame, but that’s beside the point. The point is, I had no clue what to expect. Our suite style dorm room was composed of myself and three other guys whom I had never met in my entire life. Sure, we’d communicated briefly via text in the hopes of assuring ourselves nobody was a lunatic or mass murderer, but that was about the extent of our prior interactions. In fact, I hadn’t even seen a picture of our fourth roommate until a couple weeks before move-in. Part of me was still afraid we were being catfished by a forty-something-year-old man, sitting at a folding table in his basement wearing only tighty-whities and eating Doritos while he cyberstalked us.

Needless to say, when we got all settled in everything was ok. Nobody was too weird or too obnoxious, which of course left me a bit worried that I was the crazy one. After moving in, there was about a week and a half to kill before classes started. To this day, I still can’t understand how school administration thought moving freshman in early without giving them mandatory activities was a good idea. I guess sometimes even smart people make dumb mistakes! Anyways, there were plenty of personal highs and lows during that week and a half. One afternoon, in particular, someone came up with the idea to design a table. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just someplace for us to eat and play drinking games (using only water, of course). Sketches were done, stencils were made, materials were bought, and soon enough we had a table.

She wasn’t anything fancy, but she sure was beautiful. As someone who possesses very little artistic talent, the actual painting had been left to two of the more steady-handed engineers of Room 417. Painted with the Alabama flag and a massive script “A”, it was everything I could have hoped for and more. Once it had dried, we each took a sharpie and signed the side. Hard work had paid off, and with only days until the start of Fall Semester, we were the proud owners of a magnificent custom-made table.

There are plenty of other stories I could (but probably shouldn’t) tell about Room 417. It was a room of friends, champions, and memories. There were late nights, early mornings, and Sundays spent doing absolutely nothing. Room 417 hosted a gingerbread house decorating, Netflix marathons, and a variety of watch parties for big games. In fact, a decent sized hole in the wall acted as a reminder that the Cubs won the 2016 World Series. Was it always clean? Hell no. Was it close? Ehh. Depends on your definition of “close.” However, it was perfect for a group of guys just trying to live it up a bit during freshman year.

Future Occupants of Room 417, you guys (or girls) have some big shoes to fill. Our home is now yours, ready to be filled once again with memories that will last a lifetime (or the few that won’t make it past that night). I wish you the best with your endeavors and hope you have a great first-year experience at The Capstone. Roll Tide.

Sincerely,

Room 417A