Seeing Spring Weekend Through 8 Eyes
In the criminal justice system, Spring Weekend-based offenses are especially heinous.In Providence, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Blognonian. These are their drunk, sober, high, and crossed stories.DUN DUNSober:Flashing blue lights, Crossed yelling “WEE WOO” in my ear, and Anderson .Paak giving me the uncontrollable urge to raise my hands in the air like I just don’t care. Truly, the best in humanity comes out when 4,000 people mosh together and 3,999 of them are on something fun. There were so many uncontrollable smiles, so many (very strong) hugs from people who I hadn’t seen in half a year. I probably could’ve streaked around in only my wizard’s hat yelling how the world was ending without getting the slightest surprised glance. Looking into High’s blood red eyes and indifferent gaze let me know he was having a good time, even though he wouldn’t respond to any of my questioning as to how he was doing. Either he couldn’t hear me because the music was too loud or he couldn’t hear me because the noise I was making didn’t quite make it to his plane of existence. The world may never know.As the night wrapped up and Drunk’s voice finally quieted to regular rock concert level, Crossed gave me the seven hundred and forty second hug for the night—which I let him know I greatly appreciated.“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear.“It’s all good, man, it’s all good”Cross Faded:I feel the power of the cross-fade gods coursing through my veins. I leave my room after coughing out my window, my roommate tenaciously caring for me before we get into the concert and meet up with H, S, and D. Normal walkways are for those who adhere to the rules of a broken society. In my crossed state, I hop over all the fences that can be scaled. They provide more of a bee-line than the university-sanctioned constraining paths. I see the line for entrance from Wriston and know that I cannot wait. So, I gallantly vault the moat between Wriston and George street, scramble up the wall, wait for my babysitter to walk around the normie way, and quickly dart into line.There’s one thing I remember very strongly from waiting in line. Whenever I saw people I knew, I had to come up with a way to let them know that I was both quite lit and okay at the same time. So I decide I would invent a new form of human communication, and yell, “WEE WOO WEE WOO IT’S THE CROSS FADED AMBULANCE.” While I only recall saying this a handful of times, Drunk, Sober, and High have informed me that it was in fact a non stop, undying, and ear-busting war cry. While I remember giving out as many hugs and as much love as I could to Drunk, High, my other friends, and TAs startled by my affection for them, my one regret is never hugging Sober or giving them the love I gave to literally everybody else I saw. I drowned this sorrow in some Ratty chicken fingers which I proceeded to eat by shoving the whole thing into my mouth at once.Drunk:After a particularly bad hangover a couple days before Spring Weekend, I went into the concert thinking I wouldn't get very drunk. Alas, the title of this article is not Tipsy, Sober, High, and so I was bound to spend most of Saturday moderately obliterated. For me, the Spring Weekend festivities began before noon, when my friend and I took advantage of a particularly bougie pre-game and filled up a liter-sized Poland Spring bottle with Franzia white wine. Classy! We quickly made our way over to Wriston, where I met up with Sober, Crossed and High at a darty. Things started to get interesting in the bathroom, where both Crossed and I had the pleasure of watching some fellow Brunonians push their bodies to new limits. I felt like an amateur with my lukewarm Natty light. This feeling of inadequacy was bolstered after a brief discussion with an acquaintance who informed me that he had popped "certain substances" and was still not feeling anything. After exiting this darty and drinking the last of my wine, I took a moment to take in my surroundings: seemingly every Brown student, congregating on the quad and dancing and having fun. There was no reason for people to complain about the lineup. This is what Spring Weekend is about!High: It was one of the highlights of the year for me. But, I really only remember one moment vividly from SW: walking through Patriot’s Court. Before Spring Weekend, I considered this area of campus to be especially bleak and depressing. I’ve only ever walked through the area at night. But now, Patriot’s Court has become the most beautiful spot on campus. Drunk and I entered Patriot’s Court from the side closest to Watson. We walked into the middle of the court and stopped to talk. There are quite a few people lounging around the court, and yet it feels as if no one is there. I see a dude from the Blognonian staff I’ve seen once before. I’ve never spoken to him before. I start waving. He ignores me. I look up. Forget the Indonesian Rainbow Eucalyptus in Hawaii or the Japanese Cherry Blossoms in D.C., the trees in Patriot’s Court are the most amazing trees I’ve ever seen. The flowers consist of splashes of rose, pink, and cream. I stare at the beautiful, deep-pink flowering trees for a while, not really listening to the conversation. I look back at Drunk. They have a speck of glitter on their face. I stare at the speck for a while, maybe a bit too long. I look back at Blognonian dude. I shoot my shot. I wave to him again. This time he waves back. Success! Image via.
