Halloween weekend has come and gone, leaving wreckage in its wake like a goddamn hurricane. The scene at breakfast in Lower/Mac today is what I imagine the apocalypse to look like: disheveled hair, mismatched clothes, looks of sorrow and confusion for as far as the eye can see. The body language signals a common message: don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee. You keep scrolling through the hundreds of Instagram posts in order to avoid looking up at the Reno 911 officer/Catwoman you danced with last night. These are the telltale signs of Halloween.
- The tailgate + costumes. Two of my favorite things coming together to produce a great result (described perfectly by James Franco here). I saw Rafiki from The Lion King double fisting, Winnie the Pooh stumbling around Brighton and no less than five young adults in banana suits. What a world!
- Post-game. If the tailgate was the climax of the afternoon the postgame certainly was the denouement (how about that literary reference for those of you who say we’re not real writers). Death and destruction everywhere. Garbage cans turned into makeshift vomit disposals. People passed out on random futons. Ambitious plans for postgame tailgating forgotten in favor of a tradition like no other, the gameday nap. In case anyone was wondering about the score of the game itself, we lost. Again.
- The night itself. Well done BC. Pregames, costumes, off campus, etc were all abuzz. Even the uber drivers were as cool as the other side of the pillow. Hats off to the boys at 260 Foster for hosting the entire sophomore class. For 90 minutes it was, as the kids say, lit. Live look in at the party planner’s mindset:
- Lower late night. The grand finale. The place was a ZOO. If aliens came to earth and stumbled upon the dystopia that was Lower they’d back their UFO up and go right home. Donald Trump slumped over in a chair, Netflix girls looking for their Chills, people screaming “I found him!” at Waldo. Anarchy was at an all-time high fueled by mozzarella sticks, raspberry Rubinoff and sadness. A lethal combination.
Takeaways from the night:
People love Mr. Brightside. If you put Mr. Brightside on at a party be prepared for a small riot to commence. There will be dancing, there will be jumping, there will be one person who’s getting way too into it screaming “IT WAS ONLY A KISS!” That person is me.
Don’t wear a costume that you have to explain. Seemed pretty obvious but clearly some people did not get the memo. Few things sadder than seeing some poor soul try to scream an explanation of his costume over the music. These speakers are worth more than my meal plan balance, I don’t think she’s going to hear you bro.
Girl:”Whats with the suit?”
Guy: “I’m Marco Rubio”
Guy: “He’s a presidential candidate”
- I am absolutely terrified to have a daughter.
It’s November, so buy a No Shave T-shirt here. 33% of profits go to Relay for Life.
PS – It’s officially ChristmasSZN