Two doors lead to my room. Our apartment places the living room, kitchen, bedrooms, and bathroom around a central staircase (blocked by walls), making one of my doors lead to the front door and the other lead to Simon's. I'd never point this out under normal conditions.
My door that leads to the entrance only has a handle on one end. The deadbolt can still lock it, making it impossible to enter if locked. Since the knob just pops off with the central axle, I've found an ingenious way to use it. Rather than keying into the handle on a normal door, I've just carried the whole knob around with me. When I need to enter the door, I just stick it into the hole in the door, twiddle around for the right fit, and turn, opening the door mechanism. Since no one casually carries around a knob, no one normally has the means to enter. I was planning on doing that until our landlord repaired the door 12 hours after I discovered this hack.
When Will and I got to Yale in our (newly) triannual tradition a few weeks ago, I was amazed at how consistent the Yale fonts are—from building signage to move-in banners. It's mostly serif, but with some occasional tasteful Helvetica subtitles or even Gothic titles. I wish I could say Cornell's type scene looked pretty but it's horrendous.
Pretty much every single example of lettering is different. Even building signage will differ from the next. The newly renovated Plant Science building has a superbolded version of the usual lettering. The newly renovated McGraw Tower's Art Deco-esque signage is totally different than any lettering anywhere on campus. The most ugly tall lettering is used for move in picket signs, and the Cornell name itself goes from serif to sans back to serif on the Emerging Markets Institute speaker series banners when I went to an event with Iván Duque Márquez. If anything, this is a proxy one of two things: (1) administrational competence or (2) the presence of a University Printer. It's absolutely incompetence.