Spring Weekend

This past weekend was Spring Weekend, the last weekend during the regular school year. It's supposed to celebrate the end of classes and the start of finals. Fordham sponsors alot of events during this three-day stretch, including concerts on the quad and a massive formal dance under an outdoor tent. Among the students, Spring Weekend is notorious for the amount of drinking that takes place; undergraduates make it their policy to remain intoxicated for the entire weekend. This provides for some interesting yet also unsavory situations.

Thursday night Spring Weekend kicked off early. I began to see openly drunk students all over campus starting around 8:00 pm. I was working on a paper and therefore was not in the mood for any alcohol (and besides, I never hit it as hard as most of my colleagues). I took a break to go outside and catch some fresh air with my friends. Outside, this fat junior boy from the debate team (and a friend of one of my friends) plopped down on the bench opposite me and began to smoke a cigarette. He was clearly intoxicated; I became all too aware of this reality when the fat junior suddenly lobbed his cigarette into the air. It landed in the curls at the end of my hair, still lit, tumbling ashes. Needless to say I shook it out, quite upset and angry.

"What is wrong with you?" I demanded, balling my hands into fists.

"You were in my way," the drunk, fat junior replied. He was slurring his words. I was tempted to clock him right then and there, but he was clearly out of it and perhaps could turn belligerent. This is why I don't like hanging out with really drunk people. I headed back into the dorm, seething. And thus did my Spring Weekend begin.

So the weekend didn't start off well, but it got better as it went along. On Friday night I went to the annual Irish-Italian rugby game, which was moderated by a Jesuit. It was pretty exciting to watch, although I couldn't decide on a team to vote for; after all, I am Italian and Irish. The Irish team ended up winning, continuing a winning streak. My friends and I then went back to the room and drank some Guinness to celebrate. Very appropriate.

Saturday was packed full of activities. There was a concert out on the quad, featuring a bunch of Fordham bands. There was also a free barbecue. The bands were rather unusual; I listened to one for over an hour. This band basically free-styled for the entire hour with some never-ending composition. The main singer came up with his lyrics on the spot- here are a few of my favorites:

"Nobody's falling in love! Everybody needs a shove!" (repeated over and over)

"Everybody's eating Dippin' Dots! Eat alot and alot!" (again, repeated over and over)

"If I had some money to go to the record store, I would!" (I didn't understand this at all, and the lead singer repeated it over and over for almost ten minutes.)

The music wasn't that great, but it was a beautiful day and I was outside with my friends, so I enjoyed myself.

The best part of Spring Weekend was the Under the Tent dance, which took place Saturday night. I got all dressed up with my friends and headed out to this massive tent constructed on the quad. It was beautifully decorated inside, and it featured good food and drinks, and a massive, gleaming dance floor. The dance also had a live band, and they were excellent, playing everything from Madonna to Journey. I love to dance, and it was great to be surrounded by so many friends and just let loose. Fabulous is the best word to describe it.

So here's my opinion of Spring Weekend- it's a wonderful way to cap off the regular semester, but it always ends up getting out of hand. It's quite difficult for me to describe the amount of drinking that takes place among my fellow students, but trust me, it is out of control. I like to party, but not to such excess. I mean, every night this weekend when I tried to sleep, I would be kept awake by the drunken screams of other Fordham students. Not to mention that many of my younger friends just passed out cold at parties. This was the first Spring Weekend that I felt really old; I enjoyed the quality time with other seniors, but I have to say I was relieved when it was over. Does this just mean that I'm ready to graduate? I think so...(gulp)

Here and There

The countdown is on! I'm entering into my final week of classes, and I have to say I cannot wait until I'm done with all of the work. The weather has been gorgeous lately, and it's getting harder and harder to stay inside and write papers. All I want to do is lounge on the quad with my fellow seniors and soak up some sun, but instead I am trapped on my room, forced to work. This week, for instance, I've been writing a paper on the origins of the Philistines (don't ask). Instead of boring you with Philistine talk, let me tell you what else I have been up to...

So last weekend I went up to Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, to visit my good friend Elizabeth. It's a tradition every spring that I make the journey up the Hudson to have a ridiculous weekend at Vassar. It's a way more laid back school than Fordham; it's not uncommon to see streakers, enormous bonfires, spontaneous dance parties, and people having epic make-out sessions on the quad. Fordham always appears tame in comparison.

Elizabeth threw a huge party at her house Saturday night, and by midnight the event had quickly turned into a dance party. I danced for awhile and then kicked butt in beer pong, vanquishing every challenger (I tell you, people always underestimate my pong skills). The night slowed down and we ordered pizza at three o'clock in the morning (probably some of the best pizza I've ever had) before going to bed. It was my final springtime visit to Vassar, and I'm pleased to say that it was fabulous.

Other news from the past few days- I recently bought tickets for senior week. Senior week is the final week at Fordham in which all the underclassmen have gone home for the summer and only the seniors remain on campus. It's a week full of class-bonding activities, including a cookout with the Jesuits, a luau under the bleachers, a parent-appreciation dinner dance, and a baccalaureate mass the night before graduation. The biggest event of senior week (besides graduation) is the Senior Ball, which is a formal dance downtown at Chelsea Piers. Tickets were pricey, but Chelsea Piers is a pretty nice venue, and there's an open bar. Many kids go stag, but I wanted to have a default dance partner, so I asked my good buddy Xavier to be my date, making sure to stress that the night was going to be platonic. He agreed to go.

Yes, it would have been nice to have a boyfriend to go to the ball with, but it wasn't in the cards. I know I will have a good time with Xavier; he's a great dancer, and we've been friends for a long time. The fact that I asked him and got it out of the way ensures that I won't be worrying if or when some other guy is going to ask me to the ball. Little did I know that my asking Xavier caused problems almost immediately...

On Wednesday of this week I was accosted by my good friend Mary.

"What did you do last night?" she asked. "Were you hanging out with Xavier?"

It was a bizarre question to ask, but her assumption was correct. "Yeah, I was actually," I replied. I hang out with Xavier and his roommates (also good buddies of mine) all the time; we drink beer and watch sports.

"I heard you're taking him to the ball," Mary said, smiling as if she had just uncovered a dirty secret.

"Um, we're going together, but it's strictly platonic," I replied, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh, sure it will be platonic," Mary said, her voice laden with sarcasm.

What was going on? Was she about to launch into 'Annie and Xavier, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G'?? Why was she razzing me? Then I realized it. Mary liked Xavier. I had inadvertently stepped on her toes. Crap.

"It will be platonic," I replied eventually.

"Sure it will be," Mary repeated, and I made up some excuse about homework and hastily removed herself from my presence. We'll see how this pans out, but I am fully expecting a drunken Mary to show up during the ball and try to steal my default dance partner. Why are formal dances always such ordeals??

A final story from this week- this past Thursday was the last of the senior nights. Senior nights happen once a month; they take place in the student center and are hosted by the university. They are strictly for members of the class of 2008 and feature loud music and cheap two-dollar beers served in plastic cups. Each one has a theme; this one was simply entitled 'Fordham Pride', meaning we had to wear Fordham clothes.

The event itself was alright- nothing beats a hot sweaty gathering of Fordham students in the basement of the student center - but it was after the party was over that things got strange. I was walking back to my dorm with some of my friends when there was a commotion from the quad. We walked over to the quad and saw that there was a small fire burning on it! Drunken seniors were vaulting over the fence lining the quad and running pell-mell towards the fire, like moths to a flame. Soon there was quite a crowd of seniors dancing around the fire, and many more were climbing up on the fence to watch the commotion. They were even shouting encouragement:

"Yeah, FIRE!"

"SENIORS! THAT'S HOW WE ROLL!"
"CLASS OF 2008! WHOOO!"

The weirdest part was when two Fordham security vans drove over the sidewalk, through a gap in the fence, and unto the quad. I've never seen the vans off-road it before. Security guards broke up the crowd and put out the fire, much to every one's disappointment.

So all in all, a very bizarre Thursday evening. I guess my class wants to graduate with a bang and burn the school down. Now I'm off to tackle more of my Philistine paper. Until next time...

Nearing the End

It's getting down to the wire now, and I'm already experiencing some of my 'last' moments. My 'last' set of midterms. My 'last' research papers. My 'last' few weekends of unbridled Fordham debauchery. This past weekend I experienced another 'last' event: my final choir concerts at Fordham.

I've been a member of the Fordham University Choir since day one, and while it has been a big time commitment, I've enjoyed it thoroughly. Singing was always a way for me to unwind; it's kind of difficult to worry about boys, friends, and schoolwork when you are busy at rehearsals trying to nail that precise A flat. When I returned from London this winter, I was elected Vice President, which was a big honor for me and also transformed choir into a larger commitment. It took up alot of my time when I wasn't at work or at class.

Every couple of months we have a 'concert weekend' in which we hold two performances showcasing some pieces we've been working on. Last weekend was our final concert weekend of the year, and we sang Mozart's Requiem, which is a really exciting and well-known piece (think the movie Amadeus). It was exhilarating to sing such an iconic work, and our concerts went beautifully. We had professional orchestral accompaniment as well as professional soloists; we even got standing ovations at the end of each performance. I felt like I went out with a bang.

When the concerts were finally over, and I was back in my room hanging up my long, black choir gown, I was surprised to be overcome by a wave of sadness. For the past two weeks I had been so busy preparing for the concerts, and now that it was over, I was faced with the stark reality that it was never going to happen again. No more concerts. Hell, I wasn't even going to wear my ugly black choir gown again. This realization depressed me. My Dad, who had come down to see my final performance, cheered me up a little; he pointed out that this was not the end of my singing, it was just the end of my time with the Fordham Choir. I was grateful that he put things in perspective for me.

A couple of days ago the choir met again to elect officers for the new year. Being one of the only seniors at the meeting (our President was rather uninvolved with choir this semester), I conducted the elections. The newly elected officers were all a bunch of easily excitable sophomores, but they were also quite dedicated to choir, so I knew that they would effectively serve the group.

Now, at the end of every choir rehearsal, our director Rob dismisses us but always announces: "Officers, stick around." So I never leave on time; I hang out with the other leaders of the group and discuss fund-raising, publicity, etc. However, at our last rehearsal, post-elections, Rob announced: "New officers, stick around. Everyone else can go."

It was a weird moment for me as I realized that my responsibilities had ended. For the first time all year, I was not needed after rehearsal. The new president and vice president, both fellow altos, turned to me and grinned excitedly, ready to take up their posts.

"Well girls," I said, and I couldn't help smiling at their enthusiasm. "I pass this on to you. Good luck."

"Thanks Annie," they replied, and I turned and left.

As I walked home, I felt a strange mixture of emotions well up in me. I was sad about the closure of that one chapter, relieved at the lessening of my responsibility, and overriding all of this, I felt a kind of exhilaration. There's a month left here at Fordham, and before I know it I will be swept away into the uncertainty of the real world, never to return to my collegiate bubble. The post college adventure is almost at my fingertips, although the transition is already bittersweet.