Last week, the campus giddily anticipated the semi-formal event of the term, the Sadie Hawkins Dance. For freshmen, it was a night two months in the making. Their excitement was contagious. Following a lopsided victory at Exeter, everyone was eager to ‘spank the planks’ Saturday night. Below, I divulge my observations from this year’s Sadie Hawkins dance. I was there for all of it, from the flower shop to the dorms, to the dance floor and the girls’ bathroom. It truly was a spectacular night. Kabloom! Flower Shop, 7:15 p.m. Boy #1: What are they even going to do with these flowers? Boy #2: I heard they dry them out or something. Put ‘em in books. Boy #1: Books? Boy #3: I heard they replant them. That’s what my mom does when she buys flowers. Boy #1: You’re an idiot. Boy #1: How much would these be? Cashier: That’s a lovely arrangement, young man. $25.50. Boy #1: For these? Um, what if I take out all the roses? Cashier: Then you’ve only got filler left, dear. Boy #1: Great. Tie some ribbon around that, would you? Boy #1: Why can’t I get her something we can both enjoy? Boy #2: Like what? Boy #1: Like a pizza. Boy #2: Good idea. Boy #1: I think these might be dead. Boy #2: They’re only $1.99. Boy #1: They look okay. Boy #1: Do I need to buy a vase for these? Boy #2: I don’t think so. Boy #1: Well, what’s she going to put them in? Boy #2: That’s her problem. Boy #1: This line is so long. Since I won’t have time to shower, I’ll just rub these flowers all over myself. Doorway, Paul Revere, 9:25 p.m. Boy: You look really nice. Girl: Thanks. So do you. Boy: My roommate tied my tie. Boy: Even though it’s Sadie, I bought the tickets. (Long silence) Girl: Oh, um, do you want me to pay you for mine? Boy: Sure! And for the flowers. You’re the best. Sadie Hawkins Dance, Commons, 10:45 p.m. Boy: Do you want me to get you some punch? Girl: There’s punch here? Boy: I don’t know. I just assumed there would be. I watched a lot of “Saved by the Bell” when I was younger. Boy: Do you like to dance? Girl: Yeah. Boy: Would you like to grind with me? Girl: Um, well… Boy: By ‘grind’ I mean act like we’re spooning to the rhythm of the song. Girl: Yeah, I know. And no. Doorway, Paul Revere, 11:28 p.m. Boy: Look up at the stars, the constellations…so beautiful. Girl: I’d better go inside for sign-in…now.
