Hate It: Prefrosh Weekend

It’s that time of year again: time for an infiltration of blaringly red folders and ubiquitous smiling faces. Yes, pre-frosh weekend has arrived—when eager, starry-eyed youngsters come to Harvard, still high on the rush of receiving their thick envelopes in the mail.

Don’t get me wrong, I simply love spending my Saturday night with a kid smart enough to win the National Spelling Bee. Except when she comes back shit-faced from her first ever final club outing, only to puke all over my brand new rug. FML. Can you spell that, little one?

Oh, and of course I’m totally into the number droppers—the ones who find the need to casually bring up their 2400’s and 4.0’s, as if they were contributing to some thread on College Confidential. Well, here’s some news for you: I’ve got enough stats to deal with for my pset due Friday. Oh, and nobody cares.

Okay, okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh. So, I’ll answer some typical pre-frosh questions like a good Harvard host:

1. Are people actually normal here?

No, we’re all secretly commies conspiring to take over the world. Why do you think all your folders are red? Just kidding. Well, at least not all of us.

2. How’s the dating scene?

Let me know when you find one. Wait a minute, what’s the name of that pre-frosh guy you were with earlier?

3. Is Harvard a lot of work?

I’m working on my 1,000,000th response paper as we speak. What do you think?

And you know what the worst part of all of this is? As hard as I may try to scare the little ones away, somehow they (almost) always make their valiant return come fall: ready to embark on a year of Domna’s swipes, all proudly donning their class t-shirts.

Maybe I’m just bitter I never got mine.