*Her Campus Davidson does not endorse unsafe drinking practices, particularly “blacking out.” We encourage you to have fun and drink responsibly.*
A very long time ago, the students of Davidson College were struggling to push through the long stretch of schooling that fell between Easter break and summer vacation. They had worked diligently all year, and although the end was in sight, it was far out of reach. The Wise Deans watched from above as their pupils dropped from exhaustion, sadness, and above all, boredom. “What folly,” they declared, “that we haven’t a single festivity to celebrate the achievements of our academic youth! O, what merriment would there be, were we to institute an April affair, a celebration of life, an inspiration to last through finals, that frightful time.” And so it was that Frolics was established. As per the decree of The Wise Deans, t’would be a weekend full of laughter, bubbles, fanny packs, keg stands, friendship, beer pong, slip-n-slides, air dancers, and above all, memories. Alas, The Wise Deans’ last wish was naught fulfilled: a strange, otherworldly liquid substance inexplicably tied to Frolics has rendered all hope of remembering the event impossible. That is, until now.
Her Campus Davidson has excavated some long-lost recollections of the party of the season for your ethnographic pleasure. To access them, one must only lean closer into the pensieve…
Some use Frolics as a time for activities:
“Freshman year I went to kappa sig foam party and sat by myself in the bubbles for two hours. Also, my friends and I did a scavenger hunt where we had to get pics with everyone we had hooked up with (friend crossovers had to all be in the pic).”
Others enjoy keeping their activities a mystery, even to themselves:
“All I remember from frolics last year is blacking out at 3 p.m. on Saturday and then waking up the next morning with the craziest bruise on my thigh. I went to student health, and they said it was the worst bruise they’ve seen in over 10 years. Not sure how it happened, but a year later it’s still there. I must have taken one hell of a tumble.”
Frolics, for many, is a time for getting closer with friends:
“I got so drunk at frolics after losing a beer pong game to some Fiji alumni in lederhosen that I kissed my fellow female teammate. Twice (?)”
But we must always remember that The Wise Deans are watching:
“An old man walked up to my friend at frolics last year and asked her if she was okay, to which she responded, “Who the fuck are you?” He responded: “Dean Shandley.”
There are some who practice the ancient art of rallying:
“I took a shot of vodka then threw it up into my sink in New Dorm within 3 seconds. But, I rallied after!”
And there are some who do not:
“Sophomore year I went too hard Saturday morning, vommed at Carrburritos and was asleep by 3 p.m.; I did not rally.”
Many know that proper documentation and a little bit of sleuth-work is an excellent way to solve a Frolics mystery:
“Over frolics last year I got blackout with my boyfriend and made a sex tape, then ordered pizza and passed out. I remembered none of it until I woke up with pizza in the bed and the video on my phone. “
Once again, remember that The Wise Deans are always watching, always waiting, always checking up to see that their legacy is going strong:
“It was April 2013. A fresh-lady marched to her 12:30 French class, alcohol in her water bottle and a braid crown knotted across the top of her head (which her friends would later laugh at). She watched her professor take a swig of the Jack and Coke a student had made. Her virginal frolics had truly begun. After class, she and her friends burst forth from the back of Belk and made their way to bask in the sun on Patterson Court lawn. Music roared, laughter abounded; she wore suspenders and guzzled vodka-lemonade from a pink monogrammed chug jug. Flash forward: a healthy amount of punch and 2 unhealthy shots later, she finds herself in a state where she is unable to retain memories. She out-cheers the Delilahs at the Generals’s big show. She wears pants to the no pants party. She feels no shame. Unfortunately, it all catches up with her. Friends drag the girl, vomiting, slurring, stumbling, up the hill to Belk. She trips and falls in the stairwell, landing on her hand and breaking said hand as well as her phone. A man spies from afar and follows the group of girls back to her dorm room. He enters, to find them caring for her as she vomits into a pitcher. “Do you know who I am?” The 40-year-old, glasses-wearing, goatee-sporting man questions. “Are you a freshman?” She sputters. “No, I’m Dean Shaffer.” He protests. “Well, this is awkward…” She replies.”
To date, The Wise Deans have never been disappointed with a Frolics season. Never.
And with that, let the festivities begin. Here’s to nights worth remembering with friends you won’t forget.
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