Word: frats
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Dates: during 2010-2019
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...overrun the streets of Vancouver. Local hospitals are reporting spikes in emergency-room visits for alcohol-related sicknesses and injuries; most of the intoxicated patients are males between the ages of 15 and 24. In Whistler, the partyers have turned what should be a cozy village into rows of frat houses in need of soundproofing...
Then, on Saturday, the Right’s newest frat boy took the stage. To cheers and applause, Glenn Beck offered the keynote address—a potpourri of anti-Obama vitriol, bipartisan criticism, and personal anecdotes. But as Professor Beck leapt from the podium to his beloved chalkboard, reading glasses perched low on his nose, he lambasted the calls for a return to a “Big Tent” party, asking sardonically, “What is this, a circus?” And in one sentence he did more damage than most speakers...
...bantering in French with our cab driver, we eventually learned that frats were apparently the place to party at Tufts. Throwing all of our faith into the genial man, we soon found ourselves en route to frat row. As we drifted along the empty streets, we heard the muffled hum of what we hoped and prayed might just be Ke$ha. Desperately and sketchily, we leaned out the window and asked (demanded? Leeringly yelled?) the first collegiate-looking bunch we saw on the street where we could break a move or maybe find a quasi-pseudo-valentine. They...
...began our search in the small room that was serving as a bar. Three girls pirouetted violently on the dance floor while a frazzled frat brother nursed a paper cup. A collection of listless sorority girls loitered in the hallway, coats on as if about to leave. We sauntered past lots of rooms, some with people in them, none with anyone even close to making out. Oddly it reminded us of Revenge of the Nerds...
...goes back to Harvard Square. I feel I haven’t given Brandeis a fair chance: I’ve been there many times before. Rubin and I have played basketball in the gym, seen Nas perform on the same court later that night. They have frat parties that spill happily from upstairs bedrooms to basement dance floors where water pipes slither overhead. Rubin has already reserved my ticket for Pachanga, the greatest dance party of the year—a student newspaper editorial calls it “moderated madness” and likens it to tribal rituals...