The Mirror participates in resume drop.
Upon entering Dartmouth, students are bombarded with hordes of questions ranging from “What’s your major?” to “Where do you see yourself in five years?” to “How’d you get that wart?” For Joel Ash ’56 Th’58, the real question was “Do you believe in magic?”
We’ve been lucky that one of our community’s greatest disasters occurred over a century ago. Tucked away in the Upper Valley’s quiet hills, it’s easy to overlook the possibility of danger. Students abandon laptops at library desks for hours, and it’s common to leave dorm rooms unlocked. The wiring in Dartmouth Hall has been updated in recent years, so it’s unlikely that it will once again burst into flames on a winter morning. Here at The Mirror, however, preparing for the worst is second nature. While we certainly hope that none of the following situations ever occurs, students must understand just what to do when everything hits the fan at once.
I don’t know about all of you, but these first few weeks have been some of the most jam-packed and stressful of my Dartmouth career.
Remember your freshman dorm kitchen? Most likely crusty, unused and stocked with the food of terrifying upperclassmen who would toss a blasé (most likely off campus, which, as a sophomore, I am still embarrassingly in awe of ) dish in the refrigerator for maybe weeks, but no one would have the nerve to walk to the side of their hall to say anything? Although I can’t necessarily complain coming from the McLaughlin cluster (for the ’18s — the dorm of Ill Fayze anthem fame), I too experienced this phenomenon of having a seemingly arbitrary and useless room in the middle of my floor.
“Son of a Gun” is a Dartmouth drinking song that’s managed to survive into the 21st century through the repertoires of a cappella groups and oddball enthusiasts. It’s also a favorite of mine, primarily because it’s basically a song about beer, which, along with my girlfriend and “Seinfeld,” constitute the only three things that give my wretched life any meaning. “Son of a Gun” is a joyful panegyric on fun and festivity — “Let every honest fellooooow / Drink his glass of hearty cheeeeeer! / For I’m a student of old Dartmouth and a son of a gun for beer!”