…sleep through a fire alarm (or pretend to).

SLEEP THROUGH A FIRE ALARM (OR PRETEND TO).

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Admit it. That ear-splitting shriek, usually between 2 AM and 4 AM, became an almost comforting background hum after a while. For current students, it’s probably a fresh memory from last week. For alumni, a distant, yet vividly annoying, echo from your time within those historic walls. We all know the drill—or rather, we didn't know the drill because we were too busy ignoring it.

You’re pulling another all-nighter, surrounded by textbooks and caffeine, or maybe you just finally collapsed after a grueling club meeting and a seminar paper that pushed your limits. The alarm blares. Your first thought isn't "fire!" It's "not again." You peek an eye open, maybe glance at your roommate whose face is buried in their pillow. A silent, mutual understanding passes between you: "Is this worth getting up for?" The answer, more often than not, was a resounding "no."

That deliberate choice to stay put, to cocoon yourself deeper into your blanket, was more than just laziness. It was a badge of honor. It was defiance against a system that demanded everything from you, even your deepest sleep. It was a testament to the exhaustion, the relentless pace, the sheer audacity of expecting us to function on three hours of sleep and then politely evacuate for what was almost certainly burnt popcorn.

Did you even truly experience dorm life if you didn't, at least once, feign unconsciousness while the sirens wailed, hoping someone else would deal with it? It’s a shared secret, a rite of passage, a tiny act of rebellion that binds us. It speaks to the unique resilience, or perhaps just the advanced stage of sleep deprivation, that characterized our time. We survived it all, even the false alarms.