Priscilla Tonman VI

Accepted

It turns out Laura did not get in. I was actually a little (key word being little, of course) upset that I would not be able to see her shriek if she had been forced to do something along the lines of humiliating herself to prove her worthiness and loyalty to the eating club. Speaking of which, I did what every sane person would do and Googled some key words like Cottage, Eating Clubs, Initiation. Unfortunately, the Search Engine Optimization was not working in my favour today. There honestly was not much relevant information. Just a couple of high schoolers who were eager to know how to bicker, and how initiation would be like. You and me both, buddy.

I did stumble onto an interesting thread on College Confidential which began stereotyping every single Eating Club. The writer, obviously someone who was rejected from an eating club, was very bitter. It mentioned that The Ivy Club was very preppy, (hello, this was Princeton. Not Brown, for crying out loud.  What did they expect? Hippy?) Tiger Inn members drank like no tomorrow (Tommy did have an abnormally high tolerance for anything with vodka, whiskey and tequila) and that Cottage “compromised of Southern money”. There were some rather offensive comments about how Princeton lacked diversity in general, and that Cottage epitomized it.

Woah, I wasn’t even initiated yet, and I had to admit, that hurt a little. It really didn’t seem as bad as the descriptions at all, but I did worry. It couldn’t be all lies, but it couldn’t be all truth either, right? Sure, Princeton was never going to be as diverse  as it should be, but that didn’t mean we were rascist!

I was so deep in thought and absorbed in my futile research that once again, I nearly forgot about initiation. It was 10 minutes before we were supposed to be initiated, so I ran out the door. The cool breeze hit my face, and it felt so good. I broke into a very brisk walk, and a girl carrying a bagpack larger than her upper body almost got knocked over by my inconsiderate speed. I yelled an apology, and just full out ran to Cottage.

When I got there, I was breathing heavily, and I could hear my heart pumping at cardio speed, and blood was rushing in my ears. It was one of those feelings you always read about in books but never knew what the feeling was until you felt it yourself.  At the door was a girl with beautiful,  midnight black hair and almond shaped eyes. She smiled nervously and said to me, “Hi, are you here for uh... initiation?” I replied, breathlessly, “Yes! I uh, am Priscilla. Sorry, woo! I ran here.” My heart slowed down a little.

“hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Alana Chang. Are you a sophomore?”

“Yep. Are you?” I straightened my back.

“Yeah. Do you know what’s happening tonight? I am pretty psyched, but you’ve heard the stories...”

“Oh yea, definitely. I like, even did some research on the whole process. But nada. Zip. No stories or advice off the internet.” I answered sadly.

She nodded understandingly. She looked very demure and collected. “I tried to Google it too. Nothing useful. Ah well. C’est La Vie, eh?” she grinned at me.

I was beginning to like this girl. “My thoughts exactly. Do you...”

And just as I was half way about to ask if she thought drinking would be involved, as several blogs insinuated that drunkenness was a must for initiation processes, the door opened.

Eric smiled at both of us, and said in an exaggerated, British accent, “My ladies. Your night awaits you.” He pushed the door further back, and I heard Chris Brown’s Yeah 3x was playing in the background. I loved this song! Alana and I walked in and everyone smiled at us, while giving us the once over. Suddenly, I felt a cold, glass pressed into my hand. I looked up and saw a mature looking senior, wearing a plaid, long sleeved shirt, chuckling. He said warmly, “Welcome to initiation. There’s only one rule, my dear. That is, the number of drinks you will have to intake tonight will have to match your age.” He looked at me, “Do you think you can handle this?”

I looked down at the glass. It was filled with a fizzy champagne. My favourite type of classy drinks. I didn’t feel so scared anymore. 20 drinks was a lot, but I had all night. I looked up in his dark eyes and grinned. “Bring it on, sir.” I drank the entire glass. He whooped in delight and a few people came over to pat my back. "I'm Alex,  by the way. Treasurer. And I've got my eye on you." He reached over to a person next to him and got another glass for me.

Just then, Ke$ha’s song, Blow, came on. Appropriate, I thought, and happily accepted my second drink. Long Island. Long night.