The Lush is back, and this time all bets are off. Any shred of dignity I had left at the end of last semester was kindly removed by my sister and cousin. Great gals that they are, they spiced up our family Christmas Eve party this year by distributing copies of the column in which I confessed to having participated in that most hallowed of Tufts traditions: the Naked Quad Run. Now that my entire extended family has been shocked and a good number of them have been appalled, here goes senior spring.
Normally, college students and classiness are unnatural bedfellows. Saturday was shaping up to be a classy evening indeed. With a cocktail party at my good and recently back-from-abroad friend's apartment and Winter Bash on the schedule, my roommates and I left the house dressed to the nines and ready to class it up. After being delayed by a last minute search for some misplaced IDs (hint: before assuming your IDs were flushed down the toilet, check the hamper), we were off.
Instantly upon arrival at the gathering, the Lush felt outclassed (shocking, I know) and downright out of her league. My parties tend to offer limited options (think beer out of the can or beer in a cup), but this one had both champagne and some very delicious mulled wine. There were also hors d'oeuvres, including brie.
Although the party was simply lovely, I began to see through the classy veneer. Sitting on the couch where I banished my clumsy self so as to avoid spilling or generally ruining anything in the apartment (approximately 800 times nicer than mine), enjoying the chocolate fondue, I noticed that college students and class are a dangerous combination. Most notably, candles and drunken kids are simply a fire hazard in waiting.
Furthermore, no matter how classy the attire, the d?©cor, the lighting, the beverages or the food, no amount of sophistication can prevent a common room full of intoxicated 18-22 year olds from engaging in a raucous sing-along of "Since U Been Gone" by the one and only Kelly Clarkson. Classy? Probably not. Awesome? The Lush enjoyed it; the neighbors did not.
The impromptu concert was followed in relatively short order by a shattered wine glass and someone biting it pretty hard on the kitchen floor, so it seemed like the time had come to move on to the main event: the Bash.
I have to admit, I was not enthusiastic about attending. The Lush is full of Jumbo spirit, but there's something about over a thousand Jumbos in one room that screams Danger: Awkward Conversations Lurking Ahead, and the Lush avoids those forced pleasantries like she avoids sobriety.
The whole affair went more smoothly than in past iterations. The entry process went far quicker than in past years, and the Lush didn't even mind the 5 minute wait because a freshman line companion spent the time sharing details of her (non-) sex life with her recently ex-boyfriend. Classy? No. Entertaining? Hell, yes.
Once inside, we found our 21+ selves segregated from the underclassmen caged in the dance area. Actually, it turned out that we were the ones in the cage. But our cage had alcohol in it, so no one was complaining. And thankfully, the alcohol was cheaper than in most bars.
I think a lot of students at this school would say the social life on campus has stagnated in recent years. Although it was frustrating to the Lush and the other Jumbos in the pub area that we were each limited to a maximum of three drinks - because apparently even though we are 21, we are not capable of setting our own limits - it is important to realize that was a concession to the town of Medford in order to allow alcohol at the event at all.
Despite this fact, the availability of alcohol to students of legal drinking age at a Tufts-sponsored event was a serious step in the right direction. Let's not lie to ourselves - most college students drink. There's no point in pretending that a totally dry event will attract the crowd that Spring Fling or this most recent Winter Bash will. For of-age students, being forced to pre-game for such events like freshmen is just demeaning.
But I digress. Although there were rumors that one of the bartenders didn't take your drink tickets if you tipped him well, the Lush was not fortunate enough to find him. Even though a "quick" trip to the bathroom resulted in a 30 minute wait, my roommate Ellen and I managed to make it back to the Pub area for our third and final beer just before the bar closed at 12:30. Phew.
Little known secret that Ellen and I discovered around this same time - Tufts Catering makes the best guacamole on the face of the planet. And thanks to the quick thinking of a friend who had the common sense to just ask for it while we dreamed of running away with it, we ended up with an entire bowl of the stuff, thus saving it from certain death in a nearby trash can as the food was cleared away.
We set out on a mission for the rest of the night to share our discovery. We offered guacamole courtesy of Tufts Catering to students waiting for the shuttle, to the crossing guard in front of Curtis Hall, to passing students as we rested at the bottom of Memorial Steps. And while most of our targets balked at our offer, the Lush likes to believe that we brought a little joy and delicious guacamole to the brave few who partook.
Delicious? Absolutely. Classy? No chance. But like I said, college and class simply do not mix. And the Lush is oh so collegiate.
