In order to get a deeper look at what goes on during Sewanee’s most infamous party weekend, The Sewanee Purple gathers hourly snippets of what students are doing across campus. This provides perspective from ananymous students from different classes and different greek, social, and sports affiliations.. This is not an exact summary of Sparty as a whole, but is meant to provide entertainment and maybe recall some of your similar experiences to remeniss about.
10 p.m.: Tiki Barbour just made a margarita with gatorade on Chopped and we’re obsessed.
1 a.m.: Drunkenly running around the Ayres Hall construction site and inspecting the hall because the gates were left unlocked for once.
2 a.m.: Convincing my friend that yes, I will make it to my 9 a.m.
8 a.m.: If you haven’t gone to your job still drunk at least once, you’re lying.
9 a.m.: I did not actually make it to class.
10 a.m.: When your teacher thinks you’re drunk and you’re totally sober.
3 p.m.: Dirty like my sins, / O Stirling’s Chai: come quickly, / lest my soul escape.
4 p.m.: Complete exposure to Scottish Johnsons as free-balling Highlanders fight Wellingtons.
5 p.m.: All of my friends started drinking before me and I desperately need to play a game of catch up.
6 p.m.: Having a drunken heart-to-heart with one of my friends about all the drama in our lives.
8 p.m.: Today I learned the dangers of “riding the bus”
10 p.m.: An argument erupts about the Oxford Comma.
11 p.m.: I climbed the roof of a fraternity in search of a dildo and was somehow disappointed. I hope I’m up to date on my shots.
1 a.m.: Got caught spray painting the Fiji fence. Didn’t run, but continued to spray “c***” down a plank.
5 a.m.: My alarm is set to wake up for Red Eye. I ignore it—my first and only prudent decision of the day.
8 a.m.: I almost got kicked out of McClurg for stealing too many bananas. I don’t want my friends to die.
9 a.m.: Woke up to see a friend speaking at a conference, had to evaluate how much I actually liked this friend (don’t worry, it’s a lot).
10 a.m.: Today I learned that there’s more than one way to chop an onion, even after 1.5 gargleblasters.
11 a.m.: Someone stole a live crawfish from Fiji and introduced the little guy to everyone on the back porch. Twisted or sweet? I don’t know.
12 p.m.: Pigged out on barbecue at Chi Psi as my vegetarian friends ate sad sandwiches composed only of cole slaw.
1 p.m.: Sitting on the McCrady roof with a glass of wine wondering how I got here. In general, and more specific to that moment.
2 p.m.: Finally escaped the depths of the scene shop, 90% sure everyone has died.
3 p.m.: And I thought McClurg was difficult when I was sober.
4 p.m.: Soberly coasting / To funk in a sun-drenched frat / Where have my friends gone?
5 p.m.: The straight agenda / Has cost me my sleeping bag / Gosh freaking dammit
6 p.m.: Chilling out in the sunshine in Manigualt park, with delicious wine and funny friends.
7 p.m.: I just realized how sunburned I actually am. Darn.
8 p.m.: Drinking games at the Writing House, no actual writing involved.
9 p.m.: In a surprising turn of events, Lambda is burning another fraternity’s couch. It’s like Guy Fawkes Day but for Beta.
10 p.m.: Thank god—we found someone sober to drive us to McDonald’s.
11 p.m.: We set a hammer on fire and hit stuff with it. There isn’t much else to say. Good game and good night.
12 a.m.: Lambda Chi had some intense beer pong going on, as well as a huge fire in the back. The guys were the sweetest and were so excited that people had decided to come this late to hang out.
12 a.m.: Exhaustion takes precendent over making progress on the academic challenge.
10 a.m.: Sparty final boss: / Avoiding strangers’ vomit / O god, not the sink!