Day 1
Fliers are under my door. Men are suiting up. Shit food is what's for dinner. Tonight is Rush. Reckless Underage Stripper Hand-me-a-social-life time. I shoot for glory. Aim for the stars: the Locust frats, the Spruce frats. If failure finds its way, cash in the backup bids. Go big or go home. Pressure is on; social life at stake; chances of meeting non-freshmenhall girls on the line. I zip up my Columbia fleece, take two shots. I'm off. Start out at Skulls, the unspoken starting point of Rush. These men were experts in man flirting. Too flirty. Uneasy, I peace. To Locust. I pass the moat into Castle. It's not just a frat - it's a Fratté. These foamy latte-esque men indulge me in their pseudo passions for art, or just stand there.
I go back to the Walk. At Kappa Sig, "Sweet Home Alabama" is on repeat. In their basement I stumble upon their douche bag cloning machine. Clearly time to leave. I pay visits to the other Locusts. Lacrosse sticks are mounted on walls. I sense the exclusiveness. I feel the stiff cold air, like that when a cocaine dealer walks in a room. Proximity to Huntsman no doubt encourages these toolish buy-your-friends clubs. Fears of an artificially constructed social life based solely on brothers' common personality-vacuums send me home to Hill... jaded, empty-handed. That night I had a nightmare that I would be stuck with AEPi.
Day 2
Get stripper-cooch shoved in face at KA. I wash my face and leave the cottage. To Walnut. I have a first person encounter with the immortal Sigma Nu - the fraternity that introduced to rush the two legendary super-events: bowling and laser-tag. Am too intimidated. Next door I fail the weigh-in test at Sammy. Am asked to leave, shamed by my possession of muscle. Searching for a change in scene, I make my way to the Spruce holy trinity of chillness - SAE, Beta, Pike. I fail the heart-rate test. I go home to Hill, lost as ever. Asleep in the fetal position, my nightmares worsen: It's Sig Ep this time.
Day 3
There's a sick taste in my mouth. Where did I go wrong? Closed rush-event invitations arrive. None for me. Will I completely miss out on Greek life? Fail to enjoy Penn? Trailed by my sweat, I leave Hill. I needed air. In the streets outside, great herds of girls, money-pit incarnates, wear name tags and trudge through the cold, weighed down by ditziness and their sustaining high maintenance infrastructure. The sheep march, vanity being their shepherd. Thoroughly bored and slightly horny, I move on. The reality of my situation hits me. There will be no Greek in my life. My nightmares reach the zenith of back-up-bid terror: ZBT.
Day 4
Today I went to Qdoba, and noticed that on the other side of the street, by Qdoba field, there was a small gathering of seemingly decent men. They were barbecuing. I walked over, I noticed their sign: "Penn welcomes Sigma Pi, the newest Fraternity on campus." I got a vibe. Instantly I recognize a pure feeling in my heart, one only which Sigma Pi could possibly reciprocate. Ecstasy flowing in my veins, I sign up. That night I was no longer plagued by nightmares of fallbacks and spill-overs; rather, my dream featured the glorious sun of Sigma Pi.
Day 5
Tomorrow we receive our bids. My decision has been made. My first mixer, my first hook-up as a brother, my first fat Philly blunt. Life awaits me. It sems that here at Penn, with its "top-notch academics" and "divrese student body," fraternities are the only thing that's real.
