expanding on something from my last post
Here at Cromwell, the first week of the second semester is known as Cro Week. It's a week dipped in debauchery. Apparently in their first week, no significant work happens. That means the students can afford to go out every night to a bar/club, drink and wake up wondering how they got back to college in their own bed or maybe someone else's. I didn't go along because I'm a mature student who is now done with the childish nature undergraduate life. That or the fact that they never explicitly invited me. I WASN'T BITTER. Just hurt.
Here at Cromwell, the first week of the second semester is known as Cro Week. It's a week dipped in debauchery. Apparently in their first week, no significant work happens. That means the students can afford to go out every night to a bar/club, drink and wake up wondering how they got back to college in their own bed or maybe someone else's. I didn't go along because I'm a mature student who is now done with the childish nature undergraduate life. That or the fact that they never explicitly invited me. I WASN'T BITTER. Just hurt.
They cap off the week with an event called Bunker, which they host three times a year. From the descriptions of it, it sounds like a huge frat/house party of people who probably can't dance trying to do so while getting plastered off their faces. About 2000 people from the university and outside the university attend. I was very close to finding out as I got to the entrance and I was told that they accept three forms of ID: the uni card, an Australian driver's license and a passport. I did not have the first two and I certainly wasn't going to bring my passport to an event where I was likely to forget what my middle name was. Apparently they wanted to outdo Boston bouncers in terms of stupidity, so they decide that they would not accept any international driver's license, such as my Maryland one. And that meant I had wasted A$44 on a guerilla outfit featuring an army hat, a belt of bullets and a gun (the theme was Into The Wild) and unnecessarily injured my right foot while costume shopping. I WASN'T BITTER. Just hurt.
While in line, I met a group of four people - a Canadian guy, a Canadian girl, an Indian girl from Bangalore and a local girl - from a neighboring university called Griffiths. Two of them could not get in either for the same reasons I could not get in. I went back, got changed and went out with them. The local girl decided to go back and the rest of us ended up in the Valley (the party spot). We were there for a while when I decided to go to the bathroom. I came back out and boom, they had left me. This was the third time I had gone to the bathroom that night and I guess they had enough of my lameness and decided to flee. I WASN'T BITTER. Just hurt.
So I went to this hip-hop club called Mystique by my self. The club had few people while I was there and it was never truly packed like I would have expected a club to be. My bladder failed me here because I think I may have went to the bathroom about seven or eight times in this place alone. The music was mostly good and I did have some fun, but really, it is never fun when you are clubbing alone. It never ends up being fun. I WASN'T BITTER. Just hurt.
