Hey kiddo, listen up. Uncle Victorio—you can call me that, you seem cool—has some pretty sweet Local Knowledge to dish out, OK? You’re gonna be so happy you got this scoop. You’re gonna be the toast of L-Dub for being privy to this obscure piece of Yale lore. Check it out: Radio House.

Sounds sick, right? Mysterious? I totally agree. I don’t know anything about the place.

OK, OK, you got me, I lied. You’re bright. Always told you you’d go places. Here’s some of the stuff I do know. And since I’m tired of forming sentences and we’re living in media hell, that stuff is in bullet points:

—It is at 216 Dwight.*
—Music is played here with some frequency. This usually happens on the weekends.
—Sometimes—regularly? Beats me—this music is live.
—The building may or may not contain an actual radio.
—There may or may not be, uh—bev dispensers.
—You must be 21 years or older to drink alcohol in the State of Connecticut.**

Sounds sick, right? Right! Go out and explore, you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young Yalie, you! Fog machines and strobe lights await!

No, really, go. Enjoy yourself—come on! You’re gonna be tottering with readings soon, cut loose!

Go on!

You’re still here? What do you want? Jeez, kiddo, you’re really cleaning out my stock of Local Knowledge. OK, OK, because I like you, one more: Crew House.

—Exists somewhere in New Haven (?)
—May or may not be populated by the Ghost Crew of a derelict whaling ship?
—¯\_(ツ)_/¯

* For the uninitiated: off-campus locations at Yale are too hip for “more than one word names.” If you’re ever in doubt about how to firmly establish your social cachet, just ask your interlocutors where they live, and then say “Cool, I hear that’s a good group of people. I live at [number] [made up British-sounding name.]” If the response is “Oxfords” or “Cambridges,” run away.

** Please ignore the BLATANT FEDERAL COERCION REGARDING AND “STATE” DRINKING AGES.

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