by ELIZA JEVON April 28, 2019

Dan Polonski was stoked for Ivies. It was true–he had felt the ups and downs of his first year at Bowdoin a little harder than his classmates. He ran out of polar points from eating c-store meals alone, spent more time in the stacks than he did sleeping, and waved back to people actually waving to the person behind him at least three times a day. However, he woke up Friday morning ready to transform himself.  

At 1pm, Dan pulled on his jorts, slapped on his beer hat, and made his way for the quad. The odds were not looking so good for Dan as he started his journey. Forbidden from social media whatsoever (his mother told him he could “get one” once he turned twenty-one) and deplete of any alcohol in his bloodstream (his roommate isn’t the generous type and Dan admits he “doesn’t know how to use a can-opener anyway”), Dan had the same naive ambition only matched by other first years on Pub Night.

As he walked father and farther away from Osher quad, Dan grew wary. He thought that it was a bit unusual not to hear the soft roar of music and shouting, but perhaps they were trying to keep it more low key given the increased police presence. Pushing aside his concern, Dan instead allowed himself to dream of the impending lollapalooza. He marveled at the prospect of the entire school taking up each square inch of the quad. Wow, he thought, how would 1,800 people even fit? Would he have room to hula-hoop or rollerblade around? What if his professors saw him? Now that would be embarrassing.  

However, as he rounded the corner and entered the massive expanse of empty grass in front of Hubbard, he realized with a crushing defeat what had happened: he had missed Ivies. Everyone must have already packed up. He had been waiting all year and now the party was over.  Had he misheard the gossip? Did the cops shut it down? Did they move it to next weekend?

Disappointed and downtrodden, Dan trucked back to his lonesome Osher double. He sat down next to some Howell kids high on helium at alternative quad day and sadly sipped an apple juice. Desperate for some companionship, Dan started listening in on his peers’ conversations. “Yeah,” one alternative ivies participant reported, “can’t imagine the orgies they’re having on Bruns quad right now.” Hit with a wave of humiliation, Dan could not have felt more foolish. How could he not have known? Bolting up and packing his bags with ferocious speed, Dan rushed off to experience the last bit of quad day. He would take back his life. This was his year. He marched triumphantly out of Osher quad. “Next stop,” he proclaimed, “The Town of Brunswick quad.”