A survival guide for getting to Sunday unscathed sans felonies, agoraphobia or post-traumatic stress
Cassie Sheridan |
It may not be the apocalypse but some years it sure feels like it. Weekend on the Bluff is, dare I say it, the worst. It’s a frightening time filled with crowds, virtually no parking, difficulty in telling whom among is over 18 and the voice of Andy Grammer permeating from the Chiles Center. If it weren’t for the guarantee of sunshine on Saturday (thanks to the agreement between God and Fr. Bill) all of us would probably just lock ourselves in our respective living spaces with enough food and (for those 21+) liquor to wait it out.
Perhaps your Weekend on the Bluff experience was awesome, your host daring enough to take you along to Harvard St., so you want to channel that karma forward.
However, for most of us, Weekend on the Bluff invites a disruption to our weekend bliss, a confusing time where the campus feels too full and strangely young. We watch pre-frosh meander around campus decked out in fresh UP gear, a forgotten tag still stuck on the armpit and earnestly proclaiming that they ‘love it here already’ and saying things unironically like ‘the architecture is to my liking.’ It’s enough to infuriate those of us exhausted, resentful and suffering from library-induced cabin fever. You want to whack the excited youngsters with your thirty page long BibTrad paper and you definitely would if it had been written yet. You want to grab a bull horn and scream from the library steps that it’s all a giant lie, then ceremoniously shotgun a PBR and use your uncompleted final papers to wipe away the beer tears.
Luckily, The Beacon understands. The Beacon is here for you. So we present our foolproof guide for surviving Weekend on the Bluff 2014 and making it to Sunday unscathed.
#1 Avoid eating on campus at all costs
If on Saturday you suffer a hankering for either A) Bauccio Brunch or B) Cove Salad/Cove chicken strips; don’t. The lines are guaranteed to be even more outrageous than the 10-minute wait for a taco during dinnertime. There are better places to brunch: Cathedral Coffee, Radio Room, your dormitory floor. Go to those places.
#2 Flirt with caution
We get it, you’re very suave, but nobody wants to be that person that laid the moves on a pre-frosh. And no, it’s not just a freshman ‘you’ve never seen before.’
Wait three months, seriously.
#3 Study how to dance to Andy Grammer
I think I speak for everyone when I express confusion on how exactly to dance to Andy Grammer’s highly evolved style. It’s not exactly bumpin’ music, though that will not deter most people from treating the Chiles Center like it’s a version of Venue for the night. Our suggestion: a unique blend of folky arm motion and slight hip rotation combined with a generous amount of hair tossing.
#4 Avoid laughing aloud when the pre-frosh wearing a snapback and a JCrew polo tells you he’s an electrical engineering major
You aren’t fooling anyone buddy. By second semester you will be dreaming of developing your start-up that will totally ‘revolutionize the social media world’ and how to wear a bow tie without looking like a jack ass.
#5 Actually don’t engage in conversation with anyone regarding his or her major of choice
Statistically speaking .01 percent of those people will actually be walking out of Chiles holding a diploma with that major on it. Smile and nod as they share with you how Lexie Grey’s death on Grey’s Anatomy absolutely broke their heart and they are majoring in biology, going to med school, meeting a younger version of Mark Sloan in a sexy but, like, very serious surgical situation, and operating on brains or being a pediatrician, either way.
#6 Avoid screaming when a pre-frosh says Howard Hall has ‘character’
If ‘character’ means suspicious mold growth and a high probability of falling down tomorrow, then yes, Howard certainly has a lot of that. However, they are just trying to be optimistic about the gym while waiting eagerly for the new one, the same optimism you once had, remember? That one time you worked out last semester and never returned because A) you were frightened by the general creakiness of the building and B) there were no bikes/ellipticals/treadmills available and you were afraid to enter the nucleus of tank top wearing guys milling around the weight floor.
#7 Do not host a pre-frosh unless you actually want a pre-frosh.
This seems obvious, but your mom is no longer asking if you will actually take care of that puppy you so desperately want. If, come Saturday, you feel that you lost the pre-frosh lottery and you don’t “like” your pre-frosh, don’t just pawn them off. You cannot trade in a pre-frosh; the admissions department does not have a take backs program. If you already have signed up and are now wishing you hadn’t, my condolences. I too remember being a plucky young freshmen just itching to show some excited youths the fabulous benefits of attending UP. “Give me a Pre-Frosh!” I jauntily told the admissions people, “for I will enlighten them in our North Face wearing ways and our noble bike riding traditions!” This did not go as I planned (a story for a different time). Regardless, if you’re hosting, I wish you Godspeed.
#8 Do not explain the Turkey Break Rule; no need to break their pre-frosh hearts
If you do not heed the second piece of advice on this list (I’ll wait while you scroll up) and instead flirt irresponsibly, don’t break their naïve pre-frosh hearts. 99.9 percent of pre-frosh have a high school boyfriend or girlfriend that they are going to try to ‘make it work with.’ Yes we all know that 99.9 percent of these couples will break up by the following Thanksgiving and yes, we all know they are not the exception, but they have to learn on their own. They do not need to learn it from the intoxicated upperclassmen that feels it’s their duty to save them the trouble.
#9 Actually, just avoid campus all together
This really ought to just be #1.
