Senior Bar Hopping

The keg is only five feet away now. Eric, who is 6'3", is blocking for me as we ram our way through the crowd of people. I think I've found a clean cup, but in this light you can't be sure. The music sounds like Madonna, but all I can hear is two people discussing investment banking jobs in New York.

It's really hot although all of the windows in the room are open. Half the senior class is here and almost all the sophomores. Some people are trying to dance, but most are just standing around, talking. This is the third time I've done this this week and somehow all the senior bars are beginning to look alike.

Although University officials outlawed senior bars this year, prohibiting the Class Committee from fulfilling its traditional role as organizer of the month of nightly parties, individual seniors have taken up the slack. About 30 rooming groups appointed themselves hosts and have composed and distributed schedules to all of their friends.

"Since we've had to organize them ourselves, the seniors who have done it have put more into it," says Rich, a senior who helped plan the fests. Because the College has officially banned the bars, none of the seniors who are behind the parties would publicly confess to planning them.

For anyone who hasn't been to a senior bar yet, the most important ingredient is beer. The parties have been averaging 5.2 kegs per night, says Ned, who made up the schedule. This average includes some weekend parties in house common rooms, such as the one a couple of weekends ago in Mather House. The party flowed out of the Senior Common Room through the TV room and into the hall.

The other salient factor for a senior bar is people. With the exception of one party in Adams House last week, senior bars are crowded. Unless you're 6'3"--which I'm not, that's why I make friends who are--you might have difficulty getting through all the people to the beer.

But you never know what you might find in that group of people. One freshman recounts, "A friend of mine was picked up by a sophomore in high school who told him she was a senior at Penn. Luckily he found out before he got too embarassed."

Although the schedules are only distributed to seniors, most of the parties draw as many underclassmen as seniors. The tradition evolved as a way for seniors to get together and chat about the future, but the sophomores profit as much from the nightly parties as the graduating class.

As far as I can tell, juniors are too busy working on their junior papers to go to the parties, and freshmen generally don't have a clue. Many sophomores, on the other hand, make it a point to attend all the parties they can, and they often end up running the taps or helping to change the kegs. In fact, I know a couple of sophomores who want to give a senior bar of their own.

People who throw senior bars do not have to worry about property damage. So far this year, no room has suffered any effects of a senior bar other than a floor sticky with beer and plastic cups strewn all over the place.

By and large the seniors who throw the parties belong to the hard-core group that makes it to almost every bash. However, rumors have it that Rich is the only person who has made it to every senior bar. His friend Robert had a perfect attendence slate as well until he encountered some trouble at Eliot House last weekend.

The hosts of senior bars held in house common rooms generally check for identification, in order to cooperate with the University alcohol policy, but according to tales, an Eliot House senior bar took the idea of selective admission one step further.

Many of my male friends said they were turned away the door by large, imposing-looking bouncers who said they would only admit Eliot House seniors and people on their guest list. But when I arrived, I displayed my bursars' card, complete with a Mather meal sticker and walked right in. Most of the women I've talked to say they had a similar experience.

In retaliation, another set of hosts have threatened to employ a different carding policy: party-goers will be asked to show a Harvard i.d., and if it has an Eliot House meal sticker, they won't be admitted. Virtually everyone I know approves.

I'll probably be there. After all, as one of my friends figures, going to these things can be the salvation of a grade-point average. James says he begins studying really hard after dinner every night, because he knows that come 11 p.m. he'll be going out. Maybe it will work for me.