I'm a man of simple needs. I need a computer, a microwave, a coffee maker and a flat surface to crash on for a few precious hours a couple nights a week. No need for the marble countertops at 2040 Lofts, on-site dry cleaning at Library Hill, or lawn space at Renee Row. For all intents and purposes, my two-bedroom Campus Town (I'll let you guess which one) apartment has served my three roommates and me quite well. That is, when we are able to ignore the noise.

Living downtown, noise is beyond inevitable — it's a constant. And it's not like I'm not used to it. Back home in Chicago, I hear police sirens, train whistles, airplanes from the nearby airport and car horns at all hours. I actually find it comforting.

But nothing rouses you out of REM sleep quite like shrieking drunk people leaving the bars on 16th Street at 2 a.m. And again when leaving Marquette Gyros at 3 a.m. Their drunken revelry echoes off the Campus Town buildings' flat exteriors along the 16th Street corridor, entering my bedroom through the thin — though closed — windows.

It can be entertaining. I was once a silent audience to an intense theological discussion taking place on the corner of 16th and Wells. The two debaters soon changed topic to argue about which person was "being more real." But when I'm woken most nights of the week by the noise, it's more than a nuisance — it's a real problem.

Admittedly, there's not much to be done about it. University Apartments can't please everyone, and I'm very pleased for the most part. But my roommates and I had counted on relocating to another Campus Town two-bedroom not facing 16th Street. After we paid our deposit, we were informed that the sign-up to keep our same apartment would be Monday, Nov. 3. The next day was given to students in the Trebor, Carmel and Kault apartments (which will close next year) so they could sign up for university housing in other buildings. Nov. 5 was for students moving to different apartments in the same building.

This meant that if we didn't keep the loud apartment we currently occupy, my roommates and I risked losing it — and any other units — to three buildings of students with priority over us. We asked if we could sign up for our room, see what was left vacant after Tuesday's sign-up and then move to a different apartment. We were told our sign-up was final. Grudgingly, we renewed our current lease, dooming ourselves to another year of groggy mornings.

Jim McMahon, dean of the Office of Residence Life, said the university felt it owed the residents of the other apartment buildings because they would have to relocate next year. But did they have to take priority over other paying tenants in good standing?

Emily Sluis, a junior in the College of Health Sciences and resident of the Carmel, said she appreciated the special treatment, but thought an earlier sign-up time than new university tenants would have been sufficient.

Residence Life has got its work cut out for it. Helping 11,500 Marquette students with their housing needs is no small task. But you'd think they'd have learned a thing or two by now about housing. Last year, university officials waited until spring to allow students to sign up in hopes it would slow the housing rush. Instead, they had many vacant units because students were afraid they wouldn't get the units they wanted and that other near-campus housing would fill up.

To Residence Life: Glad you're trying to make compensations to tenants inconvenienced by the proposed new engineering building, but it's bad business practice — and bad manners — to push your current tenants to the wayside.

To the drunk people on 16th Street at 3 a.m.: There's no more throbbing bar music to shout over, and your friends (or potential hook-ups) are a foot away from you — or perhaps even helping you walk. Please stuff your mouth with a gyro or a burrito and go home.

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