Booze ’til you lose: Mosaic takes a firsthand look at the party scene

Party Culture
The Review sent Otley to the front lines.

Staff Reporter

Ambulances are expensive, heartbreaks are painful and alcohol doesn’t taste good anyway. The Princeton Review named the university the No. 1 party school in America, but at what cost?

This past week, university students involved in Greek life showed their school spirit by celebrating Homecoming Week with multiple kegs of beer, illuminated bars and themed mixers seemingly every single night of the week. Some fraternities chose to hold their parties at off-campus venues, where questionable red solo cups were replaced by bougie chicken tenders and mozzarella sticks. While mixer themes ranged from “U.S.A.” to “get wiggy with it,” one theme that seemed to persist throughout was that of disaster.

The Review sent Staff Reporter Grace Otley to the front lines.

“I was dancing to Drake’s song about Keke, and everything seemed fine,” a senior at the university recounting the effects that alcohol had on her ability to maintain balance and walk properly says. “One second I was walking over to meet my friend standing at the other side of the room, but only moments later, I felt my face meet the ground.”

Even though the four shots of tequila gave her temporary happiness, she is recovering from a temporary fractured ankle and two chipped teeth.

Not only can a few swigs break bones, but they can break hearts, too.

The dance floor was crowded with people wearing wigs of all different colors, but all resembling Coconut Head from “Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide.” Towards the end of a song, a girl wearing a vibrant pink wig walked over to the bar and took a seat.

Distraught, she frantically started typing on her phone. She looked up as she showed a group of her friends a picture of what she described as “her boyfriend lying in bed with another girl slumped upon his chest.”

A tear started to roll down the side of her cheek as her friends tried to comfort her and reassure her that this was a misunderstanding. She went back to texting frantically, in need of answers.

The incoherent texts read:

“Who was the girl in that photo and why did you send me that?”
“I waa not . wbu”
“What? Did you sleep with someone else tonight?”
“Ye s but u uhave know I am drunk.”

“This is not the first time this has happened,” she said, after turning off her phone. “As long as he’s drunk, it surely won’t be the last time either.”

As Homecoming Week came to a close, a sophomore on her way to class Friday morning stated that, “Delaware is such a fun school, but I’m not sure if it’s really the No. 1 party school.”

“Our rating is based on self-reports, so if we were really the number one party school, wouldn’t we be too drunk to complete surveys and questionnaires about our alcohol consumption? I think we are trying to live up to a name that is dangerous, to say the least.”

Editor’s Note: Due to the nature of the piece, The Review chose to publish the piece with all explicitly identifying attributes removed.

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