Through simple logistics, the average college student can explain the hypothetically genius concept of living in an apartment above a bar.

Home + bar - walking there = good times.

For those who make that vision a reality, life is nonstop fun, right?

Actually, the juxtaposition of living quarters and watering hole isn't always that simple.

Just ask Pete Weinberg (junior-finance), who lives above the All American Rathskeller, 108 S. Pugh St.

For him, "puke and pee" are by far his living situation's biggest cons.

"Our back stairwell," Weinberg said, "people will pee all over it. And the stairs always, always have puke on them."

"You usually have to watch where you step," added his roommate, Tim Ward (junior-finance).

But that very stairway is also an easy-access route to the bar, where Weinberg and Ward often meet up with their other roommates.

"It's always nice to be able to walk up your own set of stairs to go home," Weinberg said.

Another upshot of living above a bar is the late-night entertainment the patrons provide -- like the random fellow who wandered into Weinberg's apartment one night, in search of "Steve."

(Note: No one named Steve lives in the apartment.)

"I think he thought he was one floor above, but he didn't quite make it high enough," said Andy Schellhaas (junior-architectural engineering), who shuffled the vagrant out of his bedroom.

Not coming in contact quite as closely with the bar-goers, Dave Polonsky (sophomore-information sciences and technology) sees action below the Rathskeller by simply looking out his window.

"I've seen guys slapping girls, girls slapping guys," he said. "Sometimes, it's like Springer."

And although Polonsky is not yet 21, he said he uses the bar to his advantage.

"If I miss Chapelle's Show, I can hear the entire dialogue by opening the window at 2 a.m.," he said.

Those familiar shouts can also be heard coming from Shandygaff Saloon, rear 212 E. College Ave., especially in that particular time frame between 2 and 2:30 a.m.

"I always hear people yelling, 'I'm Rick James, bitch!' " said Ben Onorato (senior-mechanical engineering), who lives two floors above the Shandygaff.

A few doors down from Onorato, Steve Johnston (senior-political science) has gotten used to the late-night ruckus.

"You'll find that everywhere if you live downtown," he said, "even in apartment buildings."

Across town above Café 210 West, 210 W. College Ave., hubbub from the bar is less noticeable for residents Dan McCabe (senior-information sciences and technology) and Kristen Kofmehl (junior-public relations).

McCabe said even with the few sounds that escape up to his apartment, living there is "absolutely, without a doubt" worth it.

"It's so convenient," Kofmehl said. "I've gotten great results with living up here."

While residents generally agree that the perks of living above a bar make up for the inconveniences, there is an even stronger consensus on the annoyance of the glass bottles that are shattered in recycling bins -- often at ungodly hours, and usually near apartments' windows.

"It sounds like they're dumping [the glass] right in my bedroom," Ward said.

For McCabe, it sounds more like a bomb going off.

"It's the loudest possible sound you can make with glass," he said.

Onorato said he just doesn't understand why the recycling is done one bottle at a time.

"I definitely got used to everything," he said. "Except the bottles."