Saturday Night Fever

It all started one Tuesday when I as hurrying across the Yale campus from multivariable calculus to ancient Greek history.

"Philip?" I heard a girl call out to me. I looked over, to see someone from the other side of the building where I live (we'll call her N-----). "Are you interested in going to the Morse Screw?"

Now, let me explain. First of all, Morse is the name of my residential college. At Yale, all students are assigned to a residential college, which is basically a building with rooms, a dining hall, a common room, and activity rooms all in one unit. Freshman do not live inside their residential colleges, but rather around a place called Old Campus, but residential colleges are still something we associate with, like one's house in Hogwarts.

Screw refers to a special Yale dance party, really called a Screw Your Roommate Dance, in which people are supposed to secretly find dates for each other and then have the two people meet up under amusing and awkward circumstances. The Freshman Screw is a big event, but this was just the Morse Screw. I had not been particularly interested in going.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Well, I have someone I would like to put you with."

I decided to be decisive. Hesitantly, I said, "OK. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but I will just say yes."

During the next few days, I didn't think much about the Screw. Occasionally, I wondered how I was going to find out who I was going with, and how awkward the situation would be. But as the days drew nearer and nearer to the event, scheduled for Saturday night, and I heard nothing about what I was supposed to do, I began to wonder if I had been forgotten. Which would not have bothered me much; I was mostly doing it to be charitable.

So when I was given a two-dollar ticket to a Yale Symphony Orchestra concert, I decided to go. The concert would probably be over before the Screw, and I didn't even know if I would be going to the Screw. So I walked over to Woolsey Hall.

Now, it so happens that Woolsey Hall is right next to the central dining hall, Commons. And Commons is always closed on weekends. But tonight, there was something happening in there. I peaked in through a side door to be rewarded with a glimpse of eerie red lighting and lots of people milling about in robes and strange hats, and a giant banner with a dragon hanging from the wall. My first thought was, aha! That's why they close Commons on weekends. They have wizarding parties! During the intermission of the concert, I looked in again, and this time saw that under the dragon on the banner it said Whiffenpoof (Whiffenpoofs are an old Yale singing group). This was slightly disappointing, but Whiffenpoofs are still exciting even if they're muggles.

I enjoyed the concert, but on the way back, it was raining. And the path, which was paved with flagstone, had some very deep puddles. So I had to carefully step in the shallowest places I could, which was difficult in the dark, and inevitably I splashed into deep water now and then. Splash, splash, splash.

When I got back to my room, my roommate was sitting on the couch. Upon seeing me, he said that someone had called about the Screw, and that he was supposed to call her back when I arrived. Oh, I thought, this is actually going to happen. He called, nobody answered, and then my cell phone rang. I was told to go up to the fifth floor on a different entryway to meet my date.

So I quickly got dressed up, rushed over to the other entryway, and was greeted by a rather small girl in a purple dress. "Hello, Philip!" she said cheerfully. I wondered if this was my assigned date, but she wasn't on the fifth floor, so I didn't know.

"What did N----- tell you to do?" she asked me, excitedly.

"She said to go to the fifth floor."

"OK..."

So this was not my date, and I still had to climb up five flights of stairs. Up, up, up, I went, winding around corner after corner of stairwell. A last I reached the fifth floor and knocked on the door.

I was let in by another girl, who was evidently also not my date, and came into a room filled with people mingling. I felt sheepishly self-consious to see that nobody else was dressed as nicely as me. But what did it matter if I looked better than everyone else. So I went around, saying hello to people, and then N----- told me to hide behind a door. I hid there for a while, and then a girl came around and introduced herself. This must be my date, I thought to myself. But nothing was clear. We stood around for a while, neither of us knowing quite what to do. It turned out that she wasn't all that interested in going to the dance either, she had just been convinced to go and thought she would try it out, just like me. Eventually, the masses of people slowly made their way out and down flight after flight of stairs. We walked over to Swing Space (since Morse is undergoing renovation, Morse people have to live in a place called Swing Space. It's next to a cemetery and a power plant. Luckily, as a freshman, I get to live in Durfee, one of the nicest buildings on Old Campus). In masses, we went down the stairs to the basement, and followed signs to the activities room.

It was dark. It was black-lit. There was loud music. There were people flailing around, throwing light-sticks back and forth. But most of all, people flailing around. And I couldn't hear anything that anyone said unless I went really close to them. Now, I don't want you to think that I simply don't like dance parties. A week or two ago, I attended a swing dance with a live band, and it was really fun. But this was not so much. My assigned date made it clear that she did not enjoy this type of party either. After spending a short while standing awkwardly near the side of the action, we mutually decided to leave. And so we left, and that ends the exciting story of my adventurous Saturday night.

Can't wait until the Freshman Screw! Just kidding. Christmas Dinner in Commons, on the other hand, should be interesting.

-Philip