I may not post often, but I'd have to be an idiot to not mention something about htis weekend.
This was the first of two prospie weekends, wherein the physics department goes all out and tries to convince a few folk that they want to go here. I was at the one in early April last year, and it's where I first met Brooks, Andrew, et al. and experienced the wonder of Geekfest for the first time. Speaking of which, as March 25
is coming around again, that might be stories for next weekend. The weekend we threw this time, however... fuckin' shit.
On Thursday, Evan, Sarah, and I picked up the first three students to arrive from the airport and brought them back to their hotel. We first years had decided that actually picking people up from the airport might be pleasant than getting a taxi, then getting dropped off at a hotel and left to meander for an evening. So we take the three of them out to dinner, then over to a jazz club that has music on Thursdays. The temporally inclined of you might realize that this was St. Patrick's day, which meant the place was a bit more crowded than usual and also, once the music started, chock full of green-clad college students nigh-on having sex on the floor in front of the band. Liquor flowed, conversations were had, more liquor flowed, there was dancing and discussion of many, many things. It was a perfect evening of letting loose that, at least for me, was pretty damn required at this point. Two things were also learned. First, B Mac needs to be drunk a damn sight more often than he is now. I don't think that he really has any choice in the matter, actually. Second, we shall go to Goodnight Gracie's more often as the music is good, the ambience is right, and they have okay drinks. Anyway, we got the prospies back around 1:30 am so they could start their day at 9 in the morning.
For some reason, I found that I liked going out and having a good time and then having class the next day. It's too easy to lounge around for a long time otherwise, and not that bad to just make yourself get up.
On Friday, nothing happened.
On Saturday, everything happened. Not as bad as new year's, but the fact that I think to compare them should tell you something. We got started around 8 pm, played lots of pool, migrated to Michael's place, and between over a dozen people made a sizable dent in his liquor cabinet, and the six of us that crashed there went to sleep just before six. I believe the best line of the night was from the host; "It'll be ten thousand times sexier with a salt grinder."
Kelley needs to hook us up with the photos and movies.