Ahh, fall at Tufts. It's the perfect time to grab a flannel and enjoy the numbered days of tolerable weather. If you're like me, you've been awaiting your return to the Hill since mid-June and couldn't be happier to be here. If you're really really like me, you spent every cognitively functional moment of summer at work and are actually looking forward to class as a refreshing change of pace from seemingly luciferian customers. And if you are exactly like me, you're still coming down from your endorphin-induced high from the realization that, miraculously, your adjacent Wren suite isn't full of guys that have groped you on various frat dance floors. Needless to say, this year is off to a promising start.
The first week or so at Tufts is great. It really astounds me that there are students who don't move in on the first possible day. And I'm not talking about parties. I'm talking about good old-fashioned dicking around. Catching up with old friends, meeting new neighbors, spending whole days doing nothing, and a healthy dose of my newfound passion, tandem biking, report to Wren Hall to see it in action.
Classes started on a Tuesday, which gave me ample time to be completely unprepared. After a long summer of waiting tables, my academic mind juices were as incognizant as bong water, and it only took one 50-minute lecture and a crippling hand cramp to remind me that I hadn't hand-written anything substantive in four months. Luckily, the first two days of classes consisted of thorough analyses of syllabi and required a low attention threshold. Half the students in each class scribbled notes as if they hadn't read at least nine textbook chapters entitled "What is the Scientific Method?" since middle school, but I politely refrained.
Fast forward to the first Friday back: Fall Ball. I'll skip the in-depth commentary on the ethics of re-selling free tickets on TuftsLife as last week's op-ed writers really beat me to the punch, but I've heard there will be a roundtable discussion (BYOB) in the next week or so, so stay tuned. Basically it was a fun night: good DJ, good friends, a haze of hot bodies, getting felt up by strangers… all in all a solid Friday. For lack of anything else particularly noteworthy to say about Fall Ball, I'll move swiftly along to the number one bone I have to pick with this night and others like it: female footwear. My God.
I'll break it down for you. Those ultra-chic 5-inch stiletto heels your grandmother bought you for the fifth anniversary of your Bat Mitzvah are a lot less cute when lodged between my third and forth metatarsal. Okay, I'm not your typical girly girl. I'm also freakishly tall. But if I have to spend the night grinding up on some random not-even-cute dude just to shelter my feet from your reckless stabs, I'll be watching you. One little push could send you into an impromptu test of balance and wits. Hope you're sober and nimble enough to pick yourself off the ground before anyone sees that you're not wearing underwear! Just kidding. But seriously.
If it were up to me, everyone would just wear Crocs all the time. They are squishy and colorful and have never impaled anyone. They could even make fur-lined Crocs for the winter months. It's an overdue trend that needs to set sail.
And now, my advice for the semester. Take notes, but never on the first day. Buy your textbooks at least before the midterm. Don't step on my tootsies if you have high hopes for staying upright. And finally, Tufts, don't be afraid to rock out with your Crocs out.
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Chelsea Stevens is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. She can be reached at Chelsea.Stevens@tufts.edu.
