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• All hustle, no flow

This Issue 09/22/2005

Also in this issue

• From the Editor
• Where are you going abroad?
• Charlie murphy ALERT!
• Old man trouble
• Sweedish fish at sunset

It's barely 11:35 p.m. when the first freshman of the night starts throwing up in the women's bathroom.

"Do you realize it's 12 o'clock and we haven't been to one party yet?" Ashley asks her posse of drunken female friends before sitting woozily on one of the available chairs towards the back of the room. She's wearing a tight black tank-top, jeans and has a red and blue Penn tattoo -- presumably fake -- on one of her shoulders.

"We need to get some bread into you," one of her friend's says. A few moments later, a gaggle of girls is following Ashley into the bathroom. Her retching begins before the door closes.

"I can't believe this is our pre-game," one of the freshman girls still outside of the bathroom says, tiny and visibly drunk, with long hair and a few beaded necklaces. Phil Collins' "I Can't Stop Loving You," plays in the background. When Ashley emerges, the girls crowd around her, fighting to force-feed her cookies and water.

I go into the bathroom right after Ashley. By the time I get out, she and her friends have disappeared.

In University City, two worlds move around each other -- the students and the locals -- and the two rarely cross paths. In order to watch both, I spent a Saturday night at the McDonald's on 40th and Walnut streets, from 10:30 p.m. to 7:15 a.m., and this is the story of what I saw.

It's barely 11:35 p.m. when the first freshman of the night starts throwing up in the women's bathroom.

"Do you realize it's 12 o'clock and we haven't been to one party yet?" Ashley asks her posse of drunken female friends before sitting woozily on one of the available chairs towards the back of the room. She's wearing a tight black tank-top, jeans and has a red and blue Penn tattoo -- presumably fake -- on one of her shoulders.

"We need to get some bread into you," one of her friend's says. A few moments later, a gaggle of girls is following Ashley into the bathroom. Her retching begins before the door closes.

"I can't believe this is our pre-game," one of the freshman girls still outside of the bathroom says, tiny and visibly drunk, with long hair and a few beaded necklaces. Phil Collins "I Can't Stop Loving You," plays in the background. When Ashley emerges, the girls crowd around her, fighting to force-feed her cookies and water.

I go into the bathroom right after Ashley. By the time I get out, she and her friends have disappeared.

In University City, two worlds move around each other -- the students and the locals -- and the two rarely cross paths. In order to watch both, I spent a Saturday night at the McDonald's on 40th and Walnut streets, from 10:30 p.m. to 7:15 a.m., and this is the story of what I saw.

**