For most people, frosh week is a time of freedom. It’s a time for first years to make new friends, a time for upper years to hang out on the peer and to welcome new students into the Queen’s family. It’s that special week when we introduce the youth of today to a place that will be their home away from home for the rest of their lives. But most of all it’s a week where you can sit back, relax and GET FUCKING DRUNK.
Fuck everything I said before, frosh week is about consuming as much alcohol as you possibly can in one week while also trying not to die from heatstroke in your non air-conditioned shit hole of a house. That being said, for some of us, frosh week is about staring longingly at your housemate’s bottle of vodka and wishing that you could get fucked up without puking all over the second hand couch at the party you’re attending. That’s right, there are some of us who can’t drink alcohol *cue horrified gasp*. Whether it causes an allergic reaction (like it does for me), you’re underage and you look too diverse to find an ID at Queen’s to use, or whether you just can’t stand the smell of alcohol, we must stand tall and together in sober solidarity.
So, for all you drunkards who have never seen a sober night of frosh week, let me tell you a little bit about what that looks like:
You are all sweaty:
I know your beer goggles make you feel like hot shit and as if you can get in the pants of any person you see but, in reality, you’re sweaty as fuck. Frosh week this year is HOT. Like, 3 fans on at once, rip off your clothes as soon as you get home, hold ice packs to the back of your neck, hot. So just because the six beers and seven shots of vodka you’ve consumed are telling you that you look great, doesn’t mean you don’t have a stream of sweat the size of a river running down your back. All that alcohol mixed with all that humidity in the air is just not a good look for anyone but, luckily, most of the other drunk people are in the same boat. The only ones who notice that you look and smell like you just ran a marathon in the middle of the desert are us sober people and from my experience, you usually don’t listen to us when we tell you it’s time to wring out your shirt.
You’re very loud:
I get it, you see your friend on the other side of University Ave. and you just need to get their attention. Somehow, though, it never occurs to drunk people to stop yelling once they reach each other. From my window of my bedroom I can hear everything. I know about the guy you just made out with behind a parked car, the amount of shots you’ve had tonight and how badly you need to pee for the seventeenth time. Sober people can regulate their volume. Drunk people can’t. It’s what separates us for the people working at Pizza Pizza or McDonalds. Drunk people yell that they want a snack size McFlurry and a medium fries like they’re trying to ask their 96 year old grandfather with a hearing aid to pass the peas. Sober people ask for those things in a normal, respectable, human volume.
You LOVE Queen’s:
No one loves Queen’s more than a drunk person on frosh week. Ok, maybe a drunk person on Homecoming loves it as much but on frosh week. The difference is that on frosh week, we don’t have to deal with the looming fear of midterms hanging over every shot we take and studying for exams is still just a mere memory from months ago. When you’re drunk, you tend to forget that classes even exist and when classes don’t exist, this place is pure heaven. But I digress, drunks love Queen’s. They love slurring the Oil Thigh as they sloppily try to keep their toes on the private property of the party they’re attending. They love asking ArtSci frosh how they’re feeling. They love screaming at people wearing shiny bracelets and making mostly incoherent signs while sloshed that read things like “Trump trumps frosh” and “frosh did Harambe.” (Seriously, what does that even mean?) Honestly, besides the obvious flaws in this plan, we should really be sending a horde of severely intoxicated Queen’s fuckboys to do the school’s class of 2021 recruiting. No one is more obsessed with Queen’s than drunk students on frosh week.
So basically, that’s what you missed when you were blackout drunk last night. And the night before. And the night before. Frosh week is fun when you’re drunk but just remember, there will always be the sober people there to tell you and everyone else all about fucked up shit you did last night!