You know what my favorite thing about Green Key is? We don't even try to legitimize its existence anymore. It started off as a party weekend. Then, in 1921, some rogue organization called the Green Key Society swooped in like the Legion of Doom to try to bring some legitimacy to it. Even though they're still around now, the weekend is back to the way it should be -- an unapologetically debaucherous celebration of Spring.
Green Key is a complete and utter joke, which is why it is the greatest nine-day weekend created by man.
As a senior, I have epic tales from my last three Green Keys, and I'm fairly certain this year will be no different. What I love about the weekend so much is that, unlike Homecoming and Winter Carnival, my relationship with Green Key has not changed (or matured, for that matter) as I've aged. As Homecomings have marched on, I've traded running around the Bonfire two thousand and nine times for the more practical endeavor of clotheslining freshmen that continue to disrespectfully run the wrong way and show a sense of defiance by not touching the fire. As a freshman at Winter Carnival, I helped build the snow sculpture, but as a senior, I sat idly by, giggling while the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge slowly turned into what resembled a Detroit landfill. And then there's Green Key. Sure, the things I identify with have changed, and maybe some friends have come and gone. But at the end of the day, what I did freshman year was the same thing I did sophomore and junior year, and will be the same thing I do this year. When I come back next year as an alum, I will still be doing the exact same thing. What are a few of these Green Key constants, you ask?
--Living solely off of Stinson's barbeque and Stinson's beverages for five straight days.
--Having that one alum that I figured I'd never see again not only be present over Green Key, but also have that alum overhear a conversation I'm heavily involved in about how I never wanted to see him/her again.
--Skipping my Friday class if my teacher says it's mandatory, and possibly attending if my teacher says it's optional.
These are just a few of the many things that consistently occur during Green Key. As I get ready for my final big weekend as an undergraduate, I think back to those three cardinal rules that I have learned make for an epic Green Key experience. These rules are to be treated not as guidance, but as law.
Rule 1: Do not get on Blitz. If you need to coordinate with people, use your phone. If you're on Blitz, you're probably sitting somewhere, not having fun, stressing about life. You can be on your phone while playing a game of social on top of Baker Tower.
Rule 2: Do not sleep at home. All of your nights should end with you in mysterious, confusing, intriguing places. If you decide to sleep, it should be on the floor somewhere, on a lawn, with someone else in Brittle lounge, standing up against McNutt or in a canoe down by Ledyard. Do not be the kid who goes home at 11:00 p.m., eats some leftover Orient, watches the second half of "The Replacements" and then falls asleep. Do not let that be you.
Rule 3: Act aggressive at all times in all aspects of your life. When I say "all," I mean no exceptions. If you decide you want to go out and enjoy some pong, play 10 games. If you get hungry and go to Food Court, order seven servings of mozzarella sticks. If you go to a '90s party, don't dress like you're from the '90s -- dress exactly like Will Smith from the opening credits of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," stuff your pockets with Beanie Babies and Power Rangers, walk around with a copy of Chicken Soup for the Evangelical Third Grader's Soul and somehow bring up O.J. Simpson in every conversation. Aggressive, I know. But this is Green Key, and there is no other way to behave.
So, for you freshmen, congrats, you made it to Green Key. You are in for the best days of your life thus far. Per usual, sophomore and juniors, I don't really care. And seniors, this is it. We all know what's on the other side of Green Key, and as much as we think about that, Green Key is our time to live with no worries or concerns. Make it count. Alums, I'm glad you're back. Try to keep the number of times you say "There's nothing like college; enjoy it while you can," to 15 times a day. And finally, to Jim and Susan Wright, I apologize in advance, but I will be spending the majority of my weekend across the street from your humble abode, on the Sig Ep roofdeck. I can't promise I'll keep the noise down, but for you two, I'll point the T-shirt cannon in the other direction.
