The first time I walked into McComas Hall, I was a high school senior visiting for the weekend to see the theater performance of “All-American Boys,” which was conveniently held on the first floor. It was lovely in both performance and location. The second time I walked into McComas Hall, it was so bad I told my public speaking instructor the building’s layout made me want to change my communication major back to English.
With more resemblance to catacombs or a depression-era hospital revamped in 2004, the halls and staircases in McComas can lead to everywhere if you wander long enough and nowhere if you wander too long.
Architects designed the building to appear like a grand piano from an aerial view. In theory, that is awesome. However, a quick glance at Google Earth shows McComas only vaguely resembles the grand piano it was designed to replicate. This begs the question: was it worth it? Was it really necessary to make the inside of the building as confusing as a real piano is to a musically-untrained eye? If I knew how to play the piano, would this make more sense to me? Where am I?
The stairs from ground level lead to the second floor halls with many twists, turns and dead ends. There is a random outdoor promenade that connects two hallways. If you are lucky, you can leave the building the same way you entered when you finally got to class. Few achieve this accomplishment.
McComas’ beauty is almost entirely attributed to the actual theater, where many organizations create and perform their best artwork. However, that seems to be its only merit. While treading the maze of McComas every other normal day, when no one is performing “All American Boys,” there is always someone who is lost and confused in the convoluted hallways, as if consumed by the tricks of their own trades.