We all know about it, we’ve all had classes there.
But I think it’s about time someone addresses the architectural slip-up that is Lockett Hall. I’m going to go ahead and dive right in. 
The women’s bathroom on the top floor of Lockett Hall is a complete abomination.
Let’s talk about the stalls! If you walk into the bathroom with a backpack on, you might as well turn around and find another place to go, because entering and exiting the bathroom stall is impossible, even without a backpack. 
You probably think “impossible” is a bit of an exaggeration, but it isn’t. I have tried, and failed, to enter a Lockett bathroom stall with my backpack on. It was a little embarrassing, but I decided to give up and leave with what dignity I had left. 
To be honest, you might as well walk over to Prescott to use the bathroom. Lockett is truly not worth the hassle. Here’s why: 
The space between the sinks and the stalls is only enough for one person to walk through, so if you see someone else coming in, you’re going to have to get real friendly with the bathroom wall. 
The stall doors open inwards, and the space between the door and the actual toilet is nearly nonexistent. Getting in is actually the easier part, if you can manage it. 
Did you finish doing your business? Great. Now it’s time for the real challenge: getting out of the bathroom stall.
If you woke up in the morning thinking, “I really want a bathroom stall door to graze my entire body, while simultaneously pushing my legs against a urine-stained toilet,” you’re in luck! If not, well, that’s too bad. 
It’s gross, unhygienic, cramped and inconvenient. In a nutshell, it’s Lockett.  
Now let’s talk about the room numbering. At the beginning of the semester, I casually strolled into Lockett to find my German classroom, which was located in room 113. 
I found room 112. The room right next to it was 114. Across from those are 134 and 136.
What?
Apparently, putting room 113 next to its consecutive numbers would make too much sense. Either that or students are supposed to believe 113 is like platform 9 ¾ in Harry Potter, and to get to your class you just have to walk through the wall between 112 and 114.
Somehow, I didn’t think that second explanation seemed logical. So I walked around the building several times, only to find room 113 in a completely different hallway from its number sequence. 
Only then did I realize that the even-numbered rooms were separated from the odd-numbered ones. If you can think of a logical reason as to why rooms are labeled that way, I’d love to hear it. 
Ever had a class on the bottom floor of Lockett? If you have, I’m sorry.
The room numbers down there seem to have no pattern or logical order. Trying to find my history class in Lockett B10 took at least five rounds, truly making me question my sanity. 
Isn’t the bottom floor circular? I could’ve sworn I looked at the number above every single door, and I couldn’t find B10 on my first few rounds. I’ve never felt more disoriented inside a building.
To top it off, the hallways simply aren’t wide enough to hold the flow of students going to and from class. 
Again, be prepared to get really friendly with Lockett’s walls, but don’t expect them to buy you dinner first.  
Perhaps if LSU invested as many renovation efforts into buildings such as Lockett as it does for sports facilities, our student body would be able to use the bathroom and get to class without being squished between walls and bodies. 
Shirin Chowdhury is a 20-year-old English junior from Manhattan, Kansas. You can reach her on Twitter @TDR_schowd.