Rush. A simple mention of the word brings a collective sigh to Fraternal gentlemen everywhere as they recall one of our most dreaded weeks. While absolutely essential to your house’s existence, no one looks forward to rush.
For the first week of a promising new school year, we are forced to act like we give a quarter fuck about our future pledges’ lives. Go-to questions like “What dorm are you living in?” and “What’s your major?” are repeated time and time again, distracting us from our 100 proof lifestyles.
Despite the hardships, as a good Brother you suck it up and socialize away, knowing full well the rewards will be tenfold once the pledge semester begins. This silver lining is the only thing keeping us sane while having (somewhat) sober conversations with the same people who will be polishing our trophies and detailing our SUVs with a toothbrush the very next week. As soon as the last bid is accepted and the formalities of rush end, you can almost hear the telltale fizz and pop of a Natural Light being shotgunned across campuses nationwide.
Once the threat of “surprise visits” by University administration is a thing of the past, we can return to our irreverent lifestyles. Whiskey bottles at the dinner table are once again acceptable. Victoria’s Secret lace “trophies” can reclaim their place upon your chandeliers. And most importantly, your house once again has pledges. No longer will you need to pick up your own trash, drive yourself anywhere, or even tie your own shoes.
Yes, rush week is a bitch, but try to focus on what lies ahead. After the 50th miserable textbook rush conversation, just try to imagine what that little shit will look like with his eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. That will get you through it.