A genuine OIHS lockeroom review: girls vs. boys

Boys Locker Room: The first thing I noticed upon my arrival was the door. Or rather, the black screen held recklessly together by yellow caution tape. By the entrance were two freshmen, engaged in what appeared to be a very intense wrestling match. When I walked by, they offered to take my bags and, when I accepted, promptly picked them up and began to whack each other with them. The interior of this locker room can be described in two words: dirty and unkept. Lockers were torn

open, dirty socks and empty bottles of Axe Body Spray tumbling out of them; the showers were covered in rust and, when I turned on the water, old curdled cafeteria milk came spilling out. The toilets were in no better shape; all the doors had been torn off, perhaps by guests or perhaps by the manager. Not a single one was flushed, either, nor was the urinal. When I went to use the sinks, I was incapacitated by a wad of wet toilet paper about three feet high, emerging from each one. At this point, I was about ready to leave and went to check the mirror on my way out, only to find in its place a whiteboard full of classy messages like, “Ur mom” or “I hate cats,” and a whole section ( or perhaps a shrine?) dedicated to Friday Harbor basketball players. Perhaps this is for the best, as seeing the reflection of this room would only be more scarring. The crown feature was, however, the spa, or rather the old foot massager that often travels between the boys and girls locker room, sitting silently in the corner, begging to finally be used. Overall, the atmosphere can only be described as rancid. However, the wrestling match was quite entertaining, so I give this locker room a solid 0.5/10.


Girls Locker Room:

I’ve always wondered where all our school’s money disappears to, and it appears I have found that source. When I walked through the revolving doors, I was at once greeted with a bouquet of flowers and ushered in by a group of much more obedient freshmen, who offered to take my bags and quickly hurried away with them. As I entered the room, a large water fountain gently sprayed mist in my face. The entire locker room was gilded with gold. Their mirror was large enough to cover one whole wall, and there was another one on the ceiling. Each locker held a different surprise: a chocolate fountain, a hoard of puppies, one was even an elevator to the top-secret, teachers-only pool on the roof of the school. The whiteboard was littered with messages of “Love, not war!” and “Be positive!” By each sink stood a bathroom attendant, who appeared to be students that, to everyone else’s knowledge, had left the school years before. One handed me a towel and offered me mints, a bottle of perfume, and some Advil. There were about twenty bathroom stalls, each one with doors made of solid, twenty-four karat gold, and in each stall, there sat a stack of Vogue magazines to enjoy whilst on the toilet (also gold.) I would describe this locker room as cheery and luxurious. Extra points for smelling softly of sweet cherry blossoms and not vanilla Bed, Bath, & Body Works perfume. 15/10.

Fauntleroy Fuzzington has nothing to do with this article / Photographer: Hunter Knapp

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