Few, if any, occasions justify the wearing of shot glasses as clothing – be it on a necklace, a headband, or even as the lenses of sunglasses. Perhaps the sheer absurdity of this, alone, is representative enough to explain the ridiculousness of Saint Patrick’s Day as a first year Penn student, reflecting on my experience.
Yet, the chaos started not only on the celebrating Saturday, but with bottles of green-something on the front lawn of the Van Pelt Library – a sight which was to be enjoyed by many a passing (and clearly confused/concerned) tour group of potential student applicants.
Move to Saturday morning and cue the early walk down Locust to 40th Street and the blaring sound of multiple houses playing Dropkick Murphy’s, Drake, or Kanye at full blast, followed by a handful of twenty-something boys without shirts in green boxers and green spandex, screaming something about the “luck of the Irish.” This madness was to be followed by roughly twenty different Greek parties on campus, not to mention the slew of other groups throwing various pre-games and day-longs.
Throughout the day, the escapades only grow increasingly preposterous – like the Tri-Delt freshman who fell off of a friend’s shoulders and broke her finger, or the two freshman girls who have perhaps ruined the odds of the rest of us ever entering Smoke’s again.
Maybe we forget everything that happened after 2, or perhaps even earlier. Few things can compare to that post-Saint Patrick’s Day, 4 PM nap in this world, nor the greasy Allegro’s or Copa that followed. As a freshman, days later still trying to catch up on sleep, I can say one thing for certain: as my drunk texts in my family group chat clearly demonstrate, there is little to no way that the day could have been any more fun than it was.