 |
| Freaks of the Beat (Jeff Hammond/DP) |
I ate fried Oreo cookies for the first, and most likely the last, time. I saw the Mask & Wig club in the flesh (literally). I stroked a camel, sat on a pony and held a lamb — in a frat house. I ate lots of hotdogs. I watched lesbians lip-sync the Backstreet Boys. I forgot about my econ project and the four finals lingering on the horizon. I had bubble-tea. I saw the Penn Softball team beat Cornell for the first time in, well, a long time.
Life was good. The clouds were overhead but no water fell from the sky. I flung from Thursday through Sunday. But now the heavens have opened and it seems a week’s worth of pent up precipitation is being plunged upon us by a vengeful god, cleansing us of our fling sins. My econ project is still due and now way behind schedule and my head aches with the blurred memories of my one and only Fling. Life ain’t so good no more.
I don’t know what I expected. I met and bettered my fling dreams. I was given a license to fling, — I took full advantage. Beer and burgers? Yes please and double helpings of everything. The event was well organized, the live acts were pretty good for the most part (and if they weren’t then at least they were naked), and the fried Oreos actually tasted pretty good (although $5 for a heart attack seems a little pricey.)
It seems the Penn campus awoke en masse this morning satisfied, dehydrated and reaching for the aspirin. So I guess congratulations are in order to the guys and gals over at SPEC.
But now I have my econ to get back to, and the weather outside is a pretty accurate reflection of my mood. This is our collective comedown, as we say goodbye to Fling and hello to finals.
It was the best of times. It is the worst of times.
An RSS feed of The Spin is available