People always said Hill College House was like getting the clap — no one wanted it, but at best would always be an indisputable stamp of sociability.
Personally, I saw Hill differently. I called it the house of nurture. Its first-class brunch made me strong: as a weak freshman, I quickly developed the guts needed to survive at Penn. Brunch was also a time to relax, to unwind. It was a time to exchange ideas over gourmet omelets and cappuccino. And last weekend, after some weird Rocky Horror shit, I did the Time Warp, and there I was, in Hill.
But instead of hunger, I felt sharp pangs of guilt.
An RSS feed of The Spin is available