Word: quadded
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...Dude, this is Cabot,” his companion gently corrects. “Fine. Fuck Cabot.” It’s the third Saturday night of the year and first-year revelers splash their fresh-faced joie de vivre all over an overflowing Cabot staircase. The Quad was where the party was, whether or not anyone actually knew where they were. How to get home was an entirely separate question. “Wait, guys. I think Kirkland is actually on the river,” says a tube-topped lovely, hesitating briefly before...
...same hos.” Tillery’s life, though, is less problematic—at least for now. By the end of the night, he will have been nearly brought to tears by a Tom Cruise look-alike, tried in vain to hitch a ride from the Quad to the Yard with a guy he will drunkenly refer to as “the delivery man,” and even resorted to relieving himself on the sidewalk of Garden Street. But this is now, and right now, life is easy. Getting dressed for the evening...
...Houlihan ’06 and Frank T. Ferrante ’06 leave their Playstation behind in Canaday and head over to find the Red Dog in New Quincy. The first-years let it slip that they had spent time earlier in the evening wandering around the Quad looking for something to do, obviously not adjusted to the trend of parties in college starting much later than they do in high school. A senior girl is coaxing the freshmen to drink. “Let’s play a game for shots of vodka...
...Houlihan and Ferrante have managed to squeeze into a shuttle that is filled to the gills with other fun-seeking underclassmen. After reaching the Quad Ferrante expresses his frustration with Harvard’s social scene. “This sucks compared to high school,” he says. “I think there were more hot girls in my senior class than there are here...
...teeming with folks looking to get their swerve on. Their hopes are dashed, though, as the line up the stairs is so thick and congested that entrance to the party is nearly impossible. They give up, having had their first taste of what a mess large parties in the Quad...