This is probably the reason least considered as to why pets aren’t allowed in dorms. After meeting numerous people who, when their allergies combined, could summon Captain Anaphylaxis, I now find myself considering allergies when I do nearly anything. Good thing to learn from college?
Speaking of allergies, Enjuhneer Trivia Time! Both Penny and I are allergic to cigarette smoke. That’s an allergy you can’t really guard against unfortunately, though it does make me want to punt whoever it is that stands in front of my house to smoke in the afternoons. The fan blows it all throughout the apartment and my lungs seize up. Not pleasant. 🙁
My freshman year my roomate came home in October with 17 Goldfish.
2 weeks later only 2 were still alive.
Post Thanksgiving they were all dead.
Ick.
Unfortunately I can beat Kat’s story…
My freshman year, I came back from class one day to find a plastic bag with 3 goldfish in it rolling around my suite and no roommates to be seen. I laughed at the Finding Nemo-ness of it and plunked the bag in the sink. Several hours later, the roomies return and unceremoniously dump the poor things in a ornamental salad bowl full of Troy water.
Less than 48 hours later, there are only 2 fish in the bowl.
The following Saturday, they come back at some ungodly hour, drunk to high heaven, and proceed to vomit just about everywhere. Including in the fishbowl.
Needless to say, the next day, there was only one fish left.
A few weeks later, I’m hunting for some food in the shared fridge, and upon opening the freezer I find a zippie bag with the two dead fish and the receipt from the pet store. Apparently they planned to return them and get their money back. They paid $1.39 (with tax) for the three fish.
Unfortunately it doesn’t end there…
The remaining fish somehow made it to Christmas. I was the last to leave for break, and as I was leaving, I saw the fish in its silly little salad bowl of murky Troy water, still there. Not wanting to return to a room reeking of dead fish, I put the thing in a container from the recycling bin, and took it home. My kid brother has a turtle that has some companion goldfish, so I figured it could vacation with them.
Not 30 seconds after I’ve handed the milk jug containing the goldfish refugee off, I hear, “Siiiiiiis? Uhm… My turtle just ate your goldfish…”
The poor thing apparently swum straight up to the turtle, and I’m apt to believe begged to be eaten so as to not have to return to its life of misery.
So, now having kidnapped and fed my roommates’ fish to a turtle, I panicked. We hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms due to our differing views on alcohol and late night parties. I decided to bring back one of my brother’s other fish, and apologise profusely.
I returned to our beloved ‘tute to find that ALL of the water in the “fish bowl” had evaporated, and felt justified for having kidnapped the fish. I cleaned the scum out and put in the new fish. When my roomies got back, before I could apologise, they were exclaiming “Ohh! Look! I told you it would be fine!” and cooing over it. They didn’t even notice it was a completely different fish.
And it STILL doesn’t end there.
A few months later I return to find the fish, bowl and all, gone. Figuring they had finally grown tired of their attempts at keeping fish alive, I thought nothing of it. But then I read the whiteboard, with a sob story about the fish being “stolen” and would the heartless soul who took it please return their precious fish. The precious fish they loved so much that they never fed it or cleaned its bowl or took it home on break.
To this date I have no idea what really happened to that final fish.
::eyes bug out:: …Wow, okay. I think you both beat my stories. (Some of which will appear with this storyline as time progresses.)
I think the weirdest fish story I have is that of my current roommate. We saw that someone had put fish in the Upperclassman Hill fountain, that someone else had previously put soap in. About six or seven of us went out with flashlights at night to try to save these poor things — I think there were seven or eight, obviously feeder fish. The RA came out and thought we were up to some mischief at first, but when we showed her the fish she let us continue. We got them all out and they lived in a bucket overnight, but they got a nice tank shortly thereafter. The last ones died after about 2-3 months — surprisingly long despite being stuck in crappy soapy water without food for who knows how long before they were saved.
The four fish I’ve had over the past four years lived surprisingly long too (except one that lived only three days). My second one lived close to two years. She succumbed to some sort of parasite by the end that I couldn’t find medication for, but damn was she a trooper. I hope to get a new one eventually — my last one was a comet but I rather like ryukins. (Yes, I did goldfish research. I am a nerd.)
I’m allergic to tobacco smoke as well. This was not fun at my college. A third of the population smoked, and few people even knew you could be allergic to it. I almost had to go to the hospital twice; one time I should have, when some guys were illegally smoking in the dorm and I literally had to be hauled out of the building by a friend. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a license and the only ones who did (other than me, who was in no condition to drive) were laughing at me. I probably should have had Pete call an ambulance, but I wasn’t thinking of anything other than how nice oxygen tasted when your lungs aren’t having a seizure.
I should add that most smokers who knew of my aversion to smoke thought it was because of some mamsy-pamsy dislike rather than how I’d quite literally die if I spent time around them. Those guys above were laughing because they didn’t see me collapsed on the floor unable to move. (It was very scary. I’ve never had a reaction that strong any other time. Once is more than enough, thank you.)
There was another time when on a study-abroad trip to Ireland when a classmate got very close to me reeking of smoke and I bolted away in panic, coughing up a storm. That student thought I was exaggerating, probably having heard the story that I’m an anti-smoking hypochondriac. (I’m actually very pro-smoking. If you want to do it, do it; just not in my face because I don’t want a seizure, thank you.) I vaguely remember him saying something snide, and another student, shocked, informing him of my allergy. To his credit, the smoker was immediately contrite and came over to offer his assistance — only to belatedly realize that his proximity was making it worse. It was very funny once my coughing fit subsided. 😉
It’s not as bad as a tobacco allergy, but a lot more insidious: I’m allergic to Splenda(sucralose). The number of times(3) I’ve nearly passed out from my reaction to it because someone thought they’d switch to an artificial sweetener ‘for my own good’ or because they thought I was making it up is just insane. If someone tells me they are allergic to something, I believe them, but too many people without allergies of their own think we’re just hypochondriacs.
When I first when to school, I was assigned a roommate who was a smoker. I have the very same allergy…bad! By the time I had the required doctor’s note, all the room assignments were settled. Oh, dear! I ended up in a double room…all…by…myself. Oh, yes!
I haven’t been tested for an allergy to cigarette smoke, but as I have problems handling most chemicals in any kind of concentration (hell, I filter my drinking water, and my town has nearly the lowest federally allowed amount of chlorine in the water, I have that much trouble with it), especially aerosolized such as from smoke or perfumes, I can sympathize. I can however force myself to ‘function’ long enough to put anyone who’d ‘test’ someone’s allergy for laughs into the ICU before I finally collapse, and will gladly do so no matter who’s allergy they are ‘testing’ because they don’t believe it.