Penn students behave in peculiar ways. A customary hello on Locust walk– well actually, the internal debate of whether to say hello — seems to induce pain. When did a moment of shared recognition become a comparable experience to speaking a foreign language sober or worse, menstruating without a tampon handy?

A preliminary glance down Locust can quickly give way to sheer panic; you have about five seconds to make a decision: risk embarrassment and second-class status by acknowledging that plebeian who was your friend, but only because he lived three doors down from you — or ignore them, hope that they ignore you too, and breathe a sigh of relief. Other common, but no less cringe-worthy run-ins include last month’s hook-up (very drunk), hot people you distinctly remember talking to at parties (their memory may be hazy), and class friends (didn’t talk to them about anything but).

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Many curious events make me glad I go to Penn. Walking through College Green, one can easily find groups of people playing sitars or outdoorsmen tackling tightropes (who were out today, by the way).

Today, I can add another crazy Penn sighting to my list– the running of the bulls.

If anyone else was late to class and happened to be on Locust Walk at 12:00pm, they should have seen Pamplona á la Locust. Let’s just hope this guy wasn’t involved.