From the editors

On behalf of Fifteen Minutes, we would like to take this opportunity to welcome all pre-frosh to campus. We would also like to welcome all current students to pre-frosh weekend, a potentially delightful time for those at all stages of the college life cycle. Party on, kids, young and old.

Here at FM, eyes grow moist upon recalling that fateful weekend in April of years past, when we ourselves first tasted the sweet fruit of the veritas vine. Or was it the wine made from the fermented fruit? Ah, yes, the joys of pre-frosh weekend. We recall the Scarlet Folders (so shameful!, the endless self-introductions, the relentless lines at the Union, the roving packs of frustrated party-seekers, the foamy keg in Matthews, the Greys party's recycling bin filled with vodka and Kool-Aid...and that's all we remember.

You may as well introduce yourself to every single person you meet. Next year, you can then confidently stride up to the most attractive first-years in the Union and say, "Hey, didn't I meet you during pre-frosh weekend?" It's Harvard's official first-year pickup line.

Those of us who missed pre-frosh weekend are especially looking forward to the coming days, when we hope to reclaim that which we never had. When else do you get the opportunity to hear eight straight hours of a capella, aside from Freshman Week and every other weekend during the year? When else is there an ice cream bash, besides three times a day in the dining hall, thanks to Harry Elkins' Widener's doting madre?

Pre-frosh, pre-frosh. You have such richness ahead of you. A scrutiny each week. Pipeline records, right down the Avenue. The treasures and pleasures of Harvard University Archives, 134,728 chickwich patties per year. Ear! Drink! Man. Woman.