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O-Week, higher education’s equivalent of the NFL preseason, is once again upon us. Get ready for packed sidewalks of slow moving international students during the day and war-torn streets of drunk, broken bodies and overturned pizza boxes by night. Believe me when I say we empathize with you when, by the Friday before classes begin, you secretly wish to go back home and start your shit summer internship over again. If you still believe O-Week is a good time, we’re here to show you why you’re wrong.
10. The summer residents probably destroyed the house.
That hole looks new. And that couch looks a little worse for wear. Why does my new room smell like piss? Why doesn’t the stove work anymore?
Most pressing question regarding the neglected state of the house can be answered in two words: summer residents. They didn’t cut grass and they only took the trash out once or twice. No one’s emptied the ashtray since June. The house might as well be condemned.
9. No pledges yet.
Having no pledges isn’t the worst thing to experience if you aren’t a JI. For all the new initiates, prepare for a week of cleaning, passing out rush flyers, and getting beers. How did we even let you retards in? This fraternity has gone way down hill since I pledged five years ago.
But it gets worse than JI sophomores…
8. Freshmen, freshmen everywhere.
Brace yourselves; freshmen are coming.
Campus has been overcome by a sea of lanyards and dorm-specific t-shirts as the wide-eyed incoming students have taken to the streets to smear their first-year feces all over everyone’s lives. Some of these kids are enjoying their first full week in the U.S. and, apparently, the People’s Republic of China didn’t include in their “Study Abroad” pamphlets on how to interpret street signs and order a number three, no onions.
7. No one has paid any dues.
The treasury was running dry during spring when the last class of graduating seniors said “fuck paying dues” and now the social budget is drier than an AA meeting. The first party might even have to come out-of-pocket and you’ll actually have to focus on recouping your money until the treasury is back in the black. With some luck, this will be the term people finally pay their fucking dues.
6. Having to find a new slam.
If anyone has managed to keep a slam from spring into fall without her graduating or changing schools, her name, her number, or her gender, please let me know.
Assuming you’re not in a committed relationship with a girl from your internship program, it’ll be time to fish for a new slam. You can try Tinder. And then be reminded why you stopped using Tinder. You can try parties — if you like ’em young. You can even try bars if you feel like burning up your dad’s credit card. The sad truth is, searching for a new slam when you’re out of practice is almost as bad as all the pre-rush man flirting you’ll be doing for the sake of your chapter’s future over the next few weeks.
5. Parking is a nightmare.
The meter police will be getting bonuses, because an influx of students means a bigger influx of parents’ SUVs and white BMWs, choking out all the best parking spots on campus to move little Johnny into his first double. Parking tickets will fall like confetti at the Super Bowl. Most of all, I pray you have good insurance, as few vehicles escape the destruction of O-Week with both mirrors intact and without being thrown up on, hit with a football, backed into, towed, ticketed, or booted.
4. Everything has a ridiculous line.
I hope you ordered your books online because the campus bookstore will resemble a DMV at peak hours during orientation week. The line for Chipotle will be around the block all afternoon and every bar will be three deep by midnight.
3. The lightweights are out in force.
O-week is amateur hour.
During the first few nights, the streets will be lined with alcohol virgins looking for parties. By the time you’ve had your fill of warm keg beer and fighting to keep the aux cord out of the weird kid’s hands and you head for home, you’ll pass a group of girls on every block, huddled around one of their friends who’s sitting on the sidewalk with her head between her knees. One friend will be panicking, another will insist she’s fine.
Maybe call them an Uber if you feel bad and you don’t live in some Uber-less wasteland like Somalia or Austin, Texas.
2. Moving in.
Let’s say you dodged house life this year, or you already served your house sentence — moving in still won’t suck any less. Unless you’re renewing your lease from the previous year, you’re in for a week-long pain-in-the-ass of carrying soiled couches up narrow flights of steps, constantly reminding your roommates to set up their respective utility, only to find someone’s already a month behind on rent.
You’re not experiencing the joys of move-in until you’re seriously considering hiring an attorney to nullify your lease so you can move back into a dorm.
It’s uncomfortable man-flirting season and I’m grateful I was never a rush chair. How those guys can make superficial conversation with awkward freshman guys and shamefully plug a rush event before moving to the next kid — who also came alone in jeans and a striped button-down, going-out-to-get-laid shirt — is beyond me.
I just couldn’t wait to haze their dicks off..