FM Imagines: DAPA Initiations
Entry into many of Harvard’s various student organizations comes at a price. The loss of brain cells hangs in the balance on the most fateful and celebratory of occasions: Initiations. FM has arrived—water and snacks in hand—to speculate as to how, exactly, DAPA would conduct their paradoxical initiations.
Given DAPA’s reputation of health and wellness, the organization’s options are unfortunately limited. Chugging Gatorade? Shots of soda? No, no, these simply will not do. “You’re smart, party smart,” is their mantra. Their drink of choice is something low-cal, nutritious, and, of course, non-alcoholic. Given their advice to alternate, we assume they switch between sparkling and flat water.
Unlike your overworked roommate, drunkenly collapsed upon your shoddily constructed futon, our hatchlings’ night has only just begun. Once launched from their perches, they must now face the bane of every UHS worker’s and every DAPA’s, existence: the eternally underwhelming but overstocked Quad party.
As these young, temperate crusaders march towards the wilderness (Radcliffe Quadrangle), the liquor-soaked screeches of the evening’s first victims ring through the air. As a flock of vultures circling above a decaying carcass, these creatures of the night seem to sense, subconsciously, the naïve optimism of their would-be saviors. Like Mufasa clamoring to escape the stampede of wildebeests below, the DAPAs rapidly throw water bottles and Pop-Tarts every which way. They reflexively recite the College’s amnesty policy while gasping for air. They assure one particularly drunk individual that, yes, the Quad Grill is indeed open for business.
Opting for a retreat, they begin their voyage anew. This time, our flustered rookies head toward a destination only recently incorporated into the DAPA initiation: Tasty Burger. This fast-food establishment attracts Harvard’s most drunken students like moths to a luminous grease fire. When the DAPAs arrive, they’re told they must save the poor souls within. Yes, even that sexually frustrated pre-med, vainly attempting to ease his heartache with a sixth hamburger, deserves some DAPA lovin’. They give him a green paper plate on which to eat his burger.
If they’re lucky enough to survive the night—and believe me, this is no guarantee—the rewards are great. Forever haunted by the sights, sounds, and smells of their beautifully crafted initiation, these fully-fledged DAPAs will join a community of sobriety and temperance amidst a stressed-out student body hellbent on quenching its robust thirst.