Attracted by the scent of cheap alcohol and Top 40 hits, they stumbled into Currier House. Dressed in white V-necks and Crimson lanyards, they wobbled in the lobby, waiting for some sort of instruction. In response to glares from upperclassmen, and a quick lesson in cartography, “So this isn’t the SOCH?” They vanished back into the night, in search of a “real Harvard party,” or at least an alley in which to shotgun a beer or something. Curious to see how these Rubinoff-loving first-years adapted to Harvard nightlife, FM decided to observe the freshmen prowl (from afar) so that someday, maybe, we can better understand their ways.
Overheard in the Yard: One freshman boy to another: “Dude, I am so going to do 10 shots tonight!”
Seen from the street: Group of 20 taking a selfie in front of DeWolfe. Instagram?
On the shuttle: “We made it! High fives!”
On the MBTA bus: Group of freshmen thinking they were on the shuttle.
On the dance floor at Rush Hour: “Freshman?”
“No.”
“I need to go find a freshman.”
In the bathroom to a friend: “Ahhh I kissed him, I am so going to get an STD!”At IHOP, 2 a.m.: Sober.
