Dude, That’s Rude: D-hall Chairs with Arms

As a resident of Leverett House, I genuinely have few complaints. The rooms are wonderfully spacious (in the towers, at least), the library is beautiful, the food is good — you might be thinking, what more could I possibly ask for? Different d-hall chairs, specifically ones without arms. This might seem dramatic, but I continuously find armed chairs in the d-hall a key part of my dining experience, and not in a good way. Hangriness aside, my patience for these chairs is running thin — please allow me to go into further detail as to why.

They stop you from being able to get into the chair in the first place

I feel like whenever I come to the d-hall I experience a plethora of emotions — maybe I’m trying to catch a quick bite before heading to office hours, or perhaps I’m excited to catch up with friends over a hearty meal. Whatever the circumstances might be, the common theme within all of these scenarios is that I am hungry, and therefore eating should be my primary concern. Instead, when I am trying to find an empty spot to place my tray, I not only have to worry about where to sit, but how to get into that seat. Maybe you can get by if you snag a seat on the end of a table, but if your only option is to sit between people who are already seated, it’s over for you. The only solution is to perform an acrobatic over-the-chair-arm-lunge to get into that seat, because you know there is not enough room between you and the strangers near you to be able to comfortably pull it fully out and sit down. I don’t want to work to be able to enjoy my meal, and d-hall chair arms are the one thing in my way.

Reversely, once you’re in, you’re trapped

Great, you finally made it in! Wait, did you forget a fork, a drink, or dessert? Too bad, because now that you’ve worked so hard to get into the chair in the first place, it’s even more effort to try and get out. At least there’s more room when you’re first trying to get into the chair, but now you are confined to the roughly one-and-a-half feet of space that the arms restrict you to. The only choice in this situation is to disrupt the peace of those around you, who are also trying to enjoy their meals, and ask them to move their chairs so you can maneuver around the arms of yours and be freed. Unnecessary interruptions and interaction? I’m not for it.

Too much personal space

The main argument that I receive when presenting my d-hall chair case is that they allow for personal space. Sure, you have a whole one and a half feet of space to yourself now, but also how close were you sitting to other people anyways that you need a physical barrier? I’d hope it’s not that close, but I guess that's none of my business. In the same sense, though, the physical barrier that the chair arms present restricts you from being able to reach others at the table. Someone is sitting at the other end of the table and you can’t hear them? Forget trying to lean in, you’re stuck in your personal bubble for the remainder of your meal.

They’re just more wood

The thing about the arms of the chairs is that they aren’t even adding any factor of comfort or support to the chair — they’re genuinely just extra pieces of wood. Maybe I’d be able to excuse some of my complaints if they were plush, providing a cushioning experience on your tired, overworked arms. But instead, they’re just as blunt as the rest of the chair, which is already not anyone’s first choice of seating. Poor design, in my humble opinion.

Their intended purpose just makes me upset

All in all, I truly believe that even if the arms of the chairs were elevated, if they weren’t as bulky and obstructive as I see them to be, their intended purpose is flawed. How much time is truly spent with your arms not in motion when you’re having a meal. And even when you need to rest your arms, are we forgetting that there is an entire table in front of you that your arms could go on, or if you believe in table etiquette, your lap? I just don’t know why we all of a sudden agreed that having our arms at ninety five degree angles on either side was the logical placement of them. Weird.

At the end of the day, I recognize that the type of chair I get to eat my lunch in holds an insignificant role in my life. But hey, next time you’re hangry and the only thing between you and your delicious HUDS entree is an extra piece of wood, all you can say is: dude, that’s rude.