A Frosh makes his way to the LCBO – You won’t believe what happens next!

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After a long day of orientation complete with forced social interactions, awkward introductions and a hefty dose of Axe Body Spray™ I decided to partner up with the engineers on my floor for a clandestine run to the LCBO in an effort to better fit in. Little did I know, this would change everything.

The trek itself was uneventful.  With only the occasional “how do you feel” or question of our faculty breaking the monotony. After having arrived at our destination and feigning confidence long enough to get through the doors and to the fridges. My partners in intoxication and I were faced with the decision, beer or liquor?

This question turned into a nuanced discussion, complete with some particularities such as; the weather, aesthetics, hydration, but most importantly: nationalism. My rag tag group of four ended up settling on a “two four” of Alexander Keith, hoping to not only get a healthy buzz going but also to do our part in reinvigorating the Nova Scotian economy.

After coming to this decision, the weak willed amongst us left with an understanding to re-congregate in the parking lot. “Godspeed” we wished to the one amongst us, brave enough to risk his fake id for our drunken revelries. After covering up his frosh bracelet, our young Achilles entered the breech, or the line. Outside, the rest of us went, anxiously awaiting our companion. And, after a brief wait, out he came. Triumphantly lugging our beer.

We meandered our way down to University Avenue, hoping to find a party to let ourselves into. What we found, and felt, when we arrived, I can only liken to what Cortez must have felt when he first stumbled upon Tenochtitlan.

All was not good however. Obstacles still awaited us. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air. Broken glass littered the ground. And the police occasionally attempted “drive throughs” creating a high stakes game of frogger.

Despite this, we cracked open a couple of the Maritimes finest, cheered, took a sip and joined the amorphous blob of people in their quasi-rioting. What followed I can only describe as an experience. Culminating in Roxanne being blared at a decibel level high enough to pop eardrums.

After having depleted our alcohol reserves, my now  friends and I decided to head back to Vic Hall. I found my way to my room. And just as I was nodding off, reliving the festivities in my head I heard the unmistakable sound of a fire alarm.

Welcome to Queen’s I guess.

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