Freshman dorms are a learning experience. Your roommate is a crap shoot, and even if you’re one of the lucky ones to form a bond, there are neighbors to clash with.

You could get the guys next door who never take out the garbage and by October you wonder if they’re concealing a toxic dump because of the smells leaking out from under the door. Then there is the possibility that DJ Wannabe lives next door and you’re listening to techno at 3 a.m. Better yet, last year I lived in the “red light district” where there was a constant parade of strapping young boys coming and going at odd hours. So I figured sophomore year could only get better.

And then I heard saxophone boy.

On my second night back in Boston, I was still roommate-free and enjoying the quiet while I could, before the not-so-wonderful sound of my new neighbor playing his big, shiny instrument flooded my ears. And while I have never met my neighbor I already sense that I will think back fondly on him just as I do the girls of “red light hallway.”

For the first few nights I gave him the benefit of the doubt, maybe the practice rooms are still closed during intersession. Or maybe he is also taking advantage of roommates who have yet to arrive. Or possibly it is his lifelong dream to play an instrument with a spit valve, and who am I to crush some kid’s dreams? Not to mention I have to respect the kid because my musical talents end at pressing play on my iPod.

But now, nearly a week later I am done being the friendly neighbor.

Seriously, he has to realize that his neighbors can hear him. And it is not just me, the girls on the floor above me and sax boy can hear his tunes as well. Now we might not complain if he was playing Dispatch songs on his guitar like the guy on the second floor. But he isn’t. He is playing the saxophone, which isn’t the epitome of the cool instruments. Have you ever heard a girl swoon over a sax player? Come on now.

Still, I found myself trying to give the guy a break … yet again.

Maybe he is a music major and he has to practice. I can respect a guy who takes his work seriously. Then it occurred to me that he really better not be a music major for a simple reason – he is horrible.

Maybe I am harsh, and maybe I haven’t heard a lot of sax players in my time, but he really isn’t very good. I have yet to hear an actual song or even a few notes strung together to sound good. It is just a lot of noise. Remember the time in fourth grade when you told your parents you had to play an instrument in the school band? They signed you up and bought you the necessary equipment then you blew into your clarinet a few times, or banged on the drums for five minutes, and realized how bad you sounded. Well, my neighbor still hasn’t gotten better and he doesn’t realize it either.

I am generally a nice person so I feel a little bad about being mean to this poor kid, but the final straw for me was really comical.

I sat in my room, talking on the phone with my mother just catching up on the first few days back at school and sax boy breaks out with another rousing rendition of “It’s A Thin Wall After All.” I knew quickly just how bad he is because my mom asked if I was outside and someone was beeping their car horn. Again I acknowledge my lack of musical knowledge, but it is never good to have your musical performance compared to the 5 p.m. traffic jam.

The kid needs practice, just please go elsewhere.

So here’s an appeal to everyone who wonders if maybe they are making too much noise in their room: shut up. If you think you might be too loud or just plain annoying then you probably are. And if you are playing the saxophone in your room please, please stop. Go to a practice room or even a street corner. Put out a hat and make some cash.

I’ll even buy you that hat.

– Erika Carrubba is a sophomore journalism major and a member of the News Staff.