It’s been a miserable and dreary winter for most of Yale. But for many seniors like myself, this has been a miserable and dreary winter filled with an impossible amount of alcohol.
Most of this intoxication is thanks to Feb Club. This long-standing Yale tradition was started by wonderful, upstanding students Doug Green, Dave Bass, Andy Haas, Gary Sweeney, Jim Burnham, and Steve Fox in Room 685 (lol what?) of JE in 1975 (Source: the comment from my dad on a Facebook wall post I left him in February 2013).
Original All-Star wearing original Feb Club required attire.
But Feb Club isn’t where the alcohol ends. There’s also senior happy hours, wine and cheese events, fellows’ dinners, and the giant bottle of Moscato my suite mate purchased to numb the pain of thesis writing.
While I prefer to take my SWUGness to heart and sit in sweatpants in my best friend’s common room on a Friday night, I occasionally decide that it’s time for a good, old-fashioned bar crawl. A bar crawl that usually ends with my friends being too drunk to function, and me wanting to purchase 100 shots just to throw them in their faces.
Here’s my play-by-play of a recent Friday night out in the crazy streets of the Have:
10:00pm: Begin pregame, aka drinking PBRs alone in my room while blasting Ke$ha and Queen Bey and applying mascara. It’s hard out here for a SWUG.
“Your man ain’t never seen a booty like this.”
10:45pm: Sprint to friend’s room to indulge in more beer and make fun of him in his already intoxicated state.
10:52pm: First booty text of the night: sent.
11:15pm: Arrive at the bar. Flirt with Security Guards unnecessarily because I have a legal ID. God it sucks being old and within the law.
11:16pm: Hug attacked by every person in the room. I can’t help it that I’m popular.
All my bitches love me.
11:19pm: Wait at bar for attention and alcohol.
11:32pm: Still waiting for alcohol.
11:35pm: God fucking damn it look at me I need a drink.
Actual footage of me trying to get the bartender’s attention.
11:37pm: What do you mean you’re out of whiskey? Tequila Sunrise it is.
11:38pm: Holy shit what is in this drink and why do I suddenly want to have sex with everything.
11:40pm: Hi friend! Oh, we’re not friends? Too bad we are now let’s hug.
11:41pm: Second booty text of the night: sent.
11:44pm: Where fuck did my friends??? Who this person I’m talking to?
11:45pm: Bye, rando. DANCE FLOOR.
11:48pm: Oh look actual friend! With alcohol! Yes I take Long Island iced tea now thank you bye.
11:52pm: I JUST WANNA DANCE AND BE FREE
Me dancin wit ur gurl
11:54pm: “IIII JUST WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY. I WANNA FEEL THE HEAT FROM SOMEBODY.”
“Maggie, that’s not the song playing.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”
12:07am: More Long Island? YES PLS.
12:15am: How talk what is sentences. Speak through awkward dancing.
I think we all know what this means.
12:32am: When did I home? Where is . . . oh look bed! Goodbye world. SWUG Queen, out.
Fun fact, I still haven’t woken up from that night.