A time of wonder, a time to think to yourself “Finally, I really am a college student!” Or perhaps, “So that’s what champagne feels like directly on my eyeball!” Or perchance, “Why am I waking up surrounded by nurses with an IV in my arm!” Let’s just say that if you remember anything past 6:05, you’re not doing it right. This party is your chance to revel in being a freshman! Or, if you’re an upperclassmen, your chance to look down from the balcony and pretend like you’re not checking out the talent. (But seriously 2016, let’s raise a glass to your DNA.) The first rule of 6:01 is that you don’t pregame 6:01. And the second rule of 6:01 is that you don’t pregame the pregame for 6:01 like a total newb. And the third rule of 6:01 is that after you are carried back to your dorm by an RA, you do not “rally” and “go explore” Harvey Mudd. The rules are pretty intuitive.
Oh Toga, everything starts out so clean and white! Until people start throwing wine around like it’s holy water and soon your bedsheet looks like an alcoholic Rorschach test. I can just imagine Billy Mays shooting his Oxi-Clean commercials at the senior apartments. “NOW LOOK AT THIS SCHWASTED COLLEGE STUDENT. HOW CAN HE IMPRESS A CUTIE-PATOOTIE WITH A STAINED TOGA? ANSWER: HE CANT! BUY OXI-CLEAN, GET LAID!”
The main attraction at this event seems to be the enormous table of food. The Pomona administration doubtless imagines its students playing Dentist’s Chair with Everclear and, in an attempt to prevent sending busses full of students to the hospital, provides a buffet of snacks. Because everyone knows with an underage drinking offense on your record it’s even harder to transfer to Yale. Sober students have been seen sinking to their knees, raising their fists to the sky, and cursing “For the love of GOD why can’t I just be drunk already?” This year’s event is rumored to have an entire Thanksgiving spread. Thanks Pomona, asking your future one night stand’s name over mom’s famed sweet potatoes sure adds that extra layer of class to the whole affair. Hey, maybe if you feed her enough apple pie she’ll have the strength to walk all the way to South Quad with you! And the costumes? Hardly an impressive array. What are you? A slutty cat. A promiscuous taco. A licentious dictionary. An immodest Chinese finger trap. A wanton pumpkin. A Scrippsie. (I’m totally kidding, please don’t hate me Scripps…)
Are you having trouble finding an outfit? No problem! Simply feed a see-through tanktop to a lawnmower and wear whatever comes out the other end. Because everyone knows that if everyone acknowledges that the theme is slutty, no one is going to judge you for being slutty. In Scripps’ parking garage ignorance is bliss. In this case, ignorance is also two duct-tape X’es over your nipples and a bikini thong. At parties like this one I like to picture the entire scene taking place in the Athenaeum. It’s all about context my dear friends.
CMC goes all out (and by all out I mean hires the cousin of some dude in Swedish Mafia) for this famed electronic party in Scripps’ garage. Students are known to experiment with counterfeit ticket making and hard drugs. Strike that, students are totally innocently standing in a circle together, taking Advil at the same time, and making jokes like, “Ok guys, let’s ROLL out, teeheehee!” Drugs are bad, stay in school. “On the plus side, going $6,000 over budget was totally worth it!” said no one, ever. Steven Limandibhratha ’14, Social Affairs Chair (SAC) in an exclusive interview with The Golden Antlers divulged that it was a real test of the acting skills he honed in his Acting III class at Pomona to pretend that the party was a hit. “I told The Forum ‘Undoubtedly the White Party was a success’…and they totally bought it! Suckkaaaas!”
Ah, Pirate Party. At what point do we ask the alumni’s children to get off the bouncy castle pirate ship so that drunken college students can destroy and defile it in every way possible? Are you too drunk to climb up the water slide? By all mean, try! Again. And again. And again. Pirate Party, where an alum will walk up to you and say, “I graduated in ’56!” and in the same breath, “In those days, women often walked around in the nude” while he gives you a once over and raises his eyebrows suggestively.
Or, as I call it, But Actually Maybe Chill Out Because You’re Not A Senior And Still Have Three More Years Here. The epitome of the YOLO craze of yesteryear, No Regrets is the optimal opportunity to do things that you would never actually do in the real world! Things like punching through an apartment wall, breaking a glass handle of rum next to your friends who are having a “Barefoot Party,” and confessing your undying love to whoever is standing next to you. And maybe your freshman seminar professor. (Not kidding.) Real world consequences? No such thing. This is a party of goodbyes. A party where you hug your favorite seniors goodbye, a party where they say, “I know you love me, but if you could just not puke inside my apartment that would be awesome.” We can only hope that whoever stole ASCMC’s speakers, unlike everyone else, has some regrets.
– Clancy Tripp ’15 CMC