There is nothing more indecent than navigating your way through the hellish bureaucracy that is off-campus housing. Ancient appliances and dirty carpets are just the beginning — red tape, sleazy landlords and sneaky students make the experience altogether unbearable. In the spirit of investigative journalism (and of not wanting to be homeless come September), we decided to embark on a quest for that most elusive of options: the three-bedroom apartment. Few and far between, we knew it would be a challenge. We started with the list of Penn-approved landlords and called any and all that appeared to be within our comfy campus bubble. Experiencing more hits than misses, we narrowed down our options and checked out a place on Pine. We walked in — and lo and behold: we knew the guy who lived there! It seemed like a sign, but we weren’t ready to commit.
The next day, we trekked 10 blocks in the pouring rain from our morning class at the Penn Museum to 42nd and Spruce. Further west than we wanted, but the building looked charming. This could be a gem, we thought. That is, until the creepy landlord told us the apartment “opened around back,” led us to an alley and showed us to an entrance that looked so clearly out of a horror movie. We ran teary-eyed to Allegro and called the landlord who owned the Pine apartment. Signed for just an hour earlier, we cried some more. Better luck next week? We hope so. If not… can we crash on your couch?
