Ah, Springfest. A wonderful time of drunken debauchery, short shorts, cloudless skies and Nalgenes filled with vodka and ginger ale.
I don’t know about you, but the second I saw those DBTG signs go up, I was humming with anticipation. I even emptied out my piggy bank to better calculate just how many bottles of Bacardi I can buy.
(I even had enough left for a bottle of sunscreen.)
How that’s for making use of your pennies?
In my excitement, I pulled out relics of Springfests past-namely, the free shirts, which are really the only reason I bother to leave whatever outdoorsy and sunlit spot I’ve found.
It’s not every day you witness such poor judgment in design.
(Though admittedly, the 2008 choice wasn’t so bad.)
However, as they say, all good things must come to an end.
Right when my happiness was reaching its peak and I was in the middle of locating my favorite halter top, I discovered that Springfest is not actually on April 24 and 25.
The Compass, once such a reliable source, lied.
Springfest is April 9 and 10.
Tears of pain and sorrow and frustration, down my cheeks they run.
How can I go to The “CC” Casino?
How can my feminist self be offended by “The Hangover?”
How will I weave my way up and down the sidewalks and eventually collapse in a drunken stupor on Brooks lawn when…
…my senior project is due on April 16, thus making my weekend of Bacchus-inspired bliss impossible?
My hopes and dreams?
Ground into the earth beneath my flip-flopped feet.
Like coffee beans in the morning.
Cynicism really clears your mind. It’s quite nice. Happiness takes so much more work.
Once I decided I hated Springfest, all of its many flaws suddenly became clear.
Example: Why, if we’re all told “DBTG,” are we watching “The Hangover?” Don’t the main characters wake up in Vegas was little to no recollection of what occurred the night before?
Example: Why, if we’re all told “DBTG,” is our theme “What happens in Meadville, stays in Meadville?”
Allegheny, I know you let me into this school (a decision I certain some of you have dearly rued for some time now), but I am really just not good at deciding which side to choose when it comes to mixed messages. My brain, for all of its cells and high I.Q., is simply caving under the pressure!
Should I drink and do a big dance with a small fan on the tables at Brooks…
…or should I stay at home and finish my comp?
Should I take my trusty Nalgene to The “CC” Casino and gamble away my savings…
or should I head to the library and study?
Should I go to “The Hangover” and then act it out at the Days Inn…or should I drink only water and head back to the safety of my room, sober?
I must say, if Springfest had just remained in its original timeslot I would not be asking these questions. I would be de-comped and ready for whatever happened in Meadville to stay in Meadville.
Not from this girl.
Call it Bacardi Bliss.
As it is, knowing I have to sit in my house and edit away while the rest of the world frolics has left a hole in my heart.
It is a Springfest-sized hole, gaping with rough edges, and I just don’t know how to fill it.