By DAVID WECHSLER
We were all given three months. Three months to prepare. Some of us did so by grinding through our first 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. experiences, while others prepared by never stopping, and summered in Ithaca. An alarming number even began their bargains with the devil as they embarked on their initial voyage into the life of a banker. While I cannot say definitively that their bosses were calling them “pledge,” I can only imagine that the “interns” would have preferred a line up. Nevertheless, no matter where you were, what you did or how many girls from home you claim to have had sex with this summer, we were all back in that same friendly spot on the night of August 21.
As I made photocopy after photocopy this summer, I pined for O-Week. As only a sophomoric sophomore could, I believed each night would be more legendary than the next. Ever heard of Barney Stinson’s perfect week? Well I was going for the perfect O-Week. Minus the whole sex every night thing … I’m still me after all. No, my perfect O-Week was going to include a lot of DFMOs and maybe some OTP action if I got lucky. Needless to say, I was confident and excited for my return to the Promised Land.
While no one actually cares about how I fared, O-Week was about a lot more than my trials and tribulations with the opposite gender. Here’s a look at some of the other excitement that came with my second O-Week.
Working the Door
After getting turned down at a few too many annexes last year, thiswas my time for redemption. I spent all summer practicing my, “Do you know a brother?” and my hard work was finally going to pay off. No shot I was letting in a freshman guy unless he was the man (wearing a snapback). No chance a girl was getting in unless she was a smoke (or blonde). But then the first group of freshmen guys showed up, and I was ready to turn them down. “Oh, one of you knows one brother in the house? And he’s a golfer? That’s definitely not enough—” Just kidding, that one brother just came down and vouched for you and all of your friends. There goes my authority.
Not being a freshman
Part of O-week freshman year is being asked one of three questions: “What dorm do you live in,” “Where are you from,” and “What school are you in?” are quintessential ways of meeting your future friends. This year, however, I was excited to finally know the people around me and have legitimate conversations with them – even if they started and ended with, “How was your summer?” Unfortunately, I couldn’t even afford this luxury as the kid working the door messed up and let in swarms of freshmen. Not only did I not recognize the majority of people at my party, but I was also the recipient of a few too many “Are you a freshman?” questions. However, after the initial disappointment I started to make the most of it and began introducing myself as a freshman named Ali Hyman (pronounced like Muhammad).
Living in the house
Moving into 1FPL was one part of O-Week that lived up to my over-zealous expectations. All thanks to my roommate – Kevin Nathanson – and his mother, I walked into a finished room in a house with my closest friends. And while we both haven’t had a new girl sleep over every night like we once planned, I can safely say this bed will get a little more action than the one in Court Kay Bauer did. Well, at least I hope so.
Oh, and to all the freshmen girls: Ignore the advice some idiot once gave here. Freshmen guys are out. Sophomores are in.