Here’s to you, Spring Weekend.
You’re our friend for only a short four years but, still, you remain a memory for the decades to come—all because, as the year winds down, you pick us up.
In a time laden with papers stacked sky high—sorted by sweaty palms—and notebooks becoming increasingly full—stained by the stress-induced sweat that rolls from our foreheads—you provide something students crave more than any passing grade: relief.
Offering nuggets, snow cones and burgers galore, you provide temporary time travel through the unbearable week ahead. You remind us of the summer months that will soon ensue, free from stern professors and friend-group drama; you, affording us some much-needed liberation, prop our heads back up and drag our spirits from the depths of studying hell.
As the Friday of your coveted weekend rolls around, we organize our outfits (and our alcohol), gather our friends and make a pact to make fun our newfound focus.
We compete in kickball tournaments, donning our unofficial Spring Weekend uniforms, dance through the day and night (and drink, too) and stuff our bellies full of calories, unapologetically.
Sure, you afford us endless, hedonistic opportunities, but there’s no need for guilt, because your springtime gifts come amidst heightened responsibility—how fitting. Really, we deserve to enjoy the people packed around us—from the Reilly Center parking lot to the annual townhouse quad party.
For many of us, we won’t see the faces we’ve grown familiar to for a few, elongated months. Sure, the summer brings us sandy beaches and crystal clear lake water, but nothing compares to the all-inclusive Bona Bubble.
Each year, for 500 students or so, you bid them farewell. Ironically, your celebratory offerings sometimes serve as a far more exciting send-off than a commencement speech.
Unfortunately, to many of the non-Bonnies in our lives, our attraction to you seems excessive. From chilly winter days spent sledding to vibrant, summer days on the boat, you become the center of every conversation.
No matter where life drags us—either thankfully or regretfully—you’ll remain the highlight of what will likely be the best four years of our lives.
Photo courtesy of Liam McGurl