The modern use of the word
paranoia comes from psychiatrist Emil Kraepelin, who used the term to describe a condition in which the
patient suffers from delusions but does not experience the hindering of any other intellectual facets. Modern usage trimmed down paranoia to mean any delusion in which persecution plays a part, either through being watched and/or controlled from a distance, through hypochondria, through the belief that unknown people are out to cause harm, or through erotomania (in which one believes that someone of a higher status, usually a celebrity, is in love with them).
So we all know what this means: We need good places to hide, and we need them now. Though I know it might compromise their integrity, let me reveal to you a few of the excellent hiding spots I have found here on campus.
We will begin where every good journey should begin — in the ground floor men’s bathroom of the Knight
Library. Though the library has many excellent bathrooms, this one has the added advantages of being dank and hard to find — perfect to escape those mysterious men in black who have been following you since last November. Another good hiding spot in the Knight Library is on the fourth floor, in a small corner near the fire exit next to shelf number 17, between Mario Abadia Valencia’s “La Sociedad de las Naciones de América” (341.69 Ab 14) and Henry Russell Spencer’s “Government and Politics of Italy” (342.45 Sp 33, copy number six). This is where the prominence of the Internet as a research tool and the rising illiteracy rate can really work to your advantage, because it is unlikely anyone will be up there anytime soon.
If your enemies are particularly fat or out of shape, I would suggest the ninth floor stairwell of Prince Lucien Campbell Hall. The primary advantage of this location is that no one is willing to climb nine floors, meaning this section of the stairwell is hardly ever used. Of course that man from the CIA could just take the elevator up and walk over to the stairwell, but we’ll hope he won’t be that clever. If you are not comfortable with the cold concrete of the stairs, then you are a wussy and should hide in the bathroom. (I realize that I am suggesting a disproportionate number of restrooms to hide in, but if cowering in a pungent, unwashed lavatory is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.)
The Erb Memorial Union also makes an excellent hiding spot for the discriminating paranoiac. The EMU looks like the product of some kind of weird architectural Frankenstein experiment, a twisted zombie building that devours other buildings for sustenance. It is just the sort of institutional squalor that makes for good concealment. The basement floors are particularly well suited to this purpose. Stuffed of all the things universities traditionally put in the lower levels of memorial unions, such as pool tables and minority student organizations, the basement of the EMU also features a couple of well-placed, hardly noticeable recycling bins. I can often be found in the one just off the computer lab, near the soda machines.
Straub Hall is an excellent place to sneak away for a couple of hours, because as the home of the Psychology Department, it is the one place on campus where strange behavior is never questioned and no one will give a second thought about why you are wearing an aluminum foil hat. I would suggest the small study desk between rooms 155 and 156.
Speaking of hiding under desks, one excellent place to cower in fear is a small desk in a basement-level hallway of Pacific Hall, near room number eight. This hallway is where the Environmental Studies department does its most insidious experiments and is loaded with unused industrial equipment. Speaking of which, I found a Baurer Helium Compressor down there. Model 50B, part no. D3999-258G1, serial no. 007, if anyone is looking for it. By the way, did you know that it is possible to walk from Lawrence Hall to Huestis Hall without ever having to step outside? Little known fact. It takes a little while to navigate through the science department hallways, where people survive on a combination of Mountain Dew and research grants, but this could prove to be an
advantageous pathway.
Finally we come to McKenzie Hall, another amalgamation of strange architectural ideas. Much like you, the building looks normal on the outside but houses a twisted, mysterious interior full of illogical behavior and Freudian complexes. It is the bizarre, babbling sociopath of academic buildings. There is also a really comfortable couch on the fourth floor next to the Oregon Survey Research Laboratory, with some nice potted plants and a good view of Franklin Boulevard. It is an excellent place to fester in a pool of your own irrational paranoia in peace and comfort. There is also a nice study space on the third floor, lost to the ages but not apparently to the wonders of 1970s interior design. Either would make an excellent place to camp out, where that dirty little skank Jennifer Love Hewitt won’t be able to bother you with her damn phone calls and her gamma radiation. Be sure to bring plenty of aluminum foil.

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