I was a freshman once. I remember walking into sweaty, beer-soaked apartments, thinking wow, this is awesome. Not being able to move in a party meant it was a fun one. More friends to make, more boys to dance with, more people around so that I could make a name for myself on the hill. Being crammed into a Dana 5-man with a bunch of muscular boys whose names I didn’t know sounded like the most exciting thing on earth. If I was at that party, I was cool. That was the bottom line.
I’m a senior now. Twenty-two going on forty, if you will. After spending my summer in New York City, running around to clubs in SoHo and to bars on the Upper East Side, the dorm party has become a little less exciting than it once was. And frankly, I now sort of hate having sweaty bodies all around me while I’m trying to enjoy myself. Not being able to move at a party isn’t fun. I like having room to dance. But I also like being able to hear people whom I want to talk to. So I guess I’m over the loud music in the party scene, too.
It’s not that I hate partying at Colby. No, quite the opposite, actually. The Colby party scene is what gets me through my hell weeks, filled with hundreds of pages to read, thousands of words to write, and the occasional exam (I’m an English major, after all). But I wish there was an alternative to the typical Colby party once in a while. It really does get old. So I’m making a plea for the revival of the classy party at Colby. I’d like to drink a little champagne instead of watered down beer (not that I don’t love me some Bud Light). I’d like to get dressed up in something that my father wouldn’t faint at if he saw me. I’d like to be able to talk to my friends without having to scream over hip hop or house music. Is that too ambitious?
I think I was on the right path with the Bicentennial Ball, or rather, the Colby student body was. Personally, I started out my night with a champagne pregame in my apartment, girls only, dressed in semi-formal attire. We had hors d’oeuvres, plastic champagne flutes (better than solo cups, not as god as Baccarat), and nice, low music in the background. It was lovely, really. It was neither sloppy, nor overwhelmingly crowded. But I still had fun. A lot more fun, mind you, than I would have if I were getting Keystone poured all over my beaded, flapper-esque dress by some overzealous freshmen boys. And after my little pregame, I was able to enjoy myself at the ball with a clean dress.
I’d like to see more of the classy party at Colby. Especially with the Gatsby movie being postponed from Christmas until the summer, I’m craving some 20s style letting-loose even more than I already was. So let’s start the movement. Let’s bring the classy party back to the college scene. After all, in the real world, we’re going to have to comport ourselves far differently on the weekends than we do up at Colby. We may as well start practicing now.