McMahon Hall: the unassuming dorm at Fordham Lincoln Center. This building isn’t necessarily in the front of one’s mind when walking around Lincoln Center, but it’s certainly important, as the structure houses the majority of Lincoln Center’s residents and is called home by undergraduates, graduates, law students and Fordham faculty alike. 

For the 2022-2023 academic year, living in McMahon costs anywhere from around $6,700 to $10,900 per semester, depending on the room type. At other universities, this amount could buy you an entire frat house, but considering McMahon’s expensive neighborhood, this price is a steal — especially when you take into account amenities such as the ban on overnight guests of the opposite sex and getting to live above the world’s smallest gym. 

McMahon is the only dorm for returning students on campus, which means that the building houses 19 floors of your closest peers, worst enemies and total strangers. Any of these people could suddenly appear in your home at any time.

The building also provides furniture with a rich and slightly terrifying history. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fordham founder John Hughes himself was able to enjoy McMahon’s state-of-the-art fabric couches. My couch is covered in stains and tears from its extended use. If you don’t want to think about the storied past of your living room furniture, you can cover it with a blanket. Easy fix! At least you don’t have to buy one yourself.

My stove rocks back and forth like a mother lulling a screaming newborn to sleep. When I try to fill a pan with oil, it goes to one side and one side only.

Things that might seem like negatives in other dorms are just blessings in disguise at McMahon. If having a ridiculously outdated kitchen really does “build character,” as my naive McKeon friends say, then I will be canonized by graduation. My sink and counters are warped from years and years of moisture buildup. The cabinets are disgusting, with chipped facades showing the cheap material underneath. 

My stove rocks back and forth like a mother lulling a screaming newborn to sleep. When I try to fill a pan with oil, it goes to one side and one side only. My oven is currently being “stabilized” by a folded-up napkin. The floors are embedded with food remnants, as are the walls. Oh, if those hallowed walls could talk, they would scream. 

Don’t get me started on my fridge, which does not even have a light. Having to fight to find food in your fridge in complete darkness is a rather humbling experience, establishing a real will-they-won’t-they dynamic between me and my dinner.

If the kitchen walls would scream, what about the carpets? Excellent question. They would screech like banshees. The floors pale in comparison to the carpets, which are veterans of who knows what wars — wars, plural, because they are an accumulation of years, if not decades, of college student grunge. 

Tell me why there are 18 washing machines for an entire building — a community, a Ramily, if you will. Eighteen.

The doors are made with the least soundproof materials ever produced. When sitting in my bedroom, I can hear every noise made in my living room. Even more impressive, I can hear the elevator beeping down the hall from the comfort of my own bed. Thank God! I was worried I wouldn’t be able to track every movement of my fellow residents. 

In addition to reverberating all possible sounds, the doors in McMahon do not even reach the floor. While replacing the doors with a full floor-to-frame fitting would eliminate the noise pollution, is that really what Fordham residents want? How can they maintain the McMahon Watch™ if they are not aware of their neighbor’s day-to-day activities and private conversations? I’m just looking out for everyone.

Phew, all this talk about problems has made me sweat. Let me go run a nice shower. What do you mean my bathroom is steamy and has no ventilation system? Steam hovers in the small space, leading to the ceiling dripping onto the shower caulk and making me wonder where the mold begins and where the caulk ends. I know if I removed the three panels (yes, panels) in my shower, I would find a fun new ecosystem. My core science requirements are coming in handy, just like Fordham said they would!

Tell me why there are 18 washing machines for an entire building — a community, a Ramily, if you will. Eighteen. There are 19 floors of residents in this building. Eighteen washers is a generous estimate given how many machines are out of order for weeks at a time. I must have missed the memo that one of the Office of Residential Life’s policies is that the laundry rooms are only allowed to operate at 50% capacity.

Manhattan real estate is by no means cheap, and it may be difficult for the school to build or buy new residence quarters, but what are Fordham’s other options? I propose renting out classrooms in the Leon Lowenstein Center.

Many members of the Class of 2026 live with up to eight other roommates in a three-bedroom apartment meant for no more than six people. The small apartments of McMahon are already very cozy with their intended number of residents, but it’s an entirely new level of exhilaration to be faced with eight different people from the moment you wake up. 

Since Fordham clearly has no issue with over-admitting students to rake in more tuition dollars despite having nowhere to house them, it may be time for Fordham to look for additional housing opportunities. Manhattan real estate is by no means cheap, and it may be difficult for the school to build or buy new residence quarters, but what are Fordham’s other options? I propose renting out classrooms in the Leon Lowenstein Center.

Think about it: Fordham could house up to 35 students in each classroom, since this is usually the maximum number of students that can enroll in a class. Students would be able to reexperience the childhood dream of constantly sleeping under a blanket fort — or better yet, sitting up in their chairs — all while bearing the responsibilities of young adults.

This exclusive dorming situation would also come with a free alarm via a professor stumbling in for their 8:30 a.m. class as the occupants jump out of the classroom bundled in their sleeping bags (which the bookstore could sell for the low low price of $150) like children in a potato sack race. What a refreshing wake up — plus a free cardio workout.

The McMahon experience has made me feel closer than ever to my Ramily, mostly because I have so many roommates, but I’m excited to live there again next year and uncover the many mysteries the building has to offer.