I’m a senior. Last Monday, I went to WishCo for the first time in my Brown career.
(And if you don’t know what WishCo* is, then you probably also don’t know what Lincoln Quad is or maybe how to chew your food).
I boogied down and crushed it on the dance floor as per uszh, but I have some serious grievances.
Here’s what this first-time-WishCo-senior was thinking while dancing at WishCo:
1) To the people who kept wading through the crowd to get out/come back/meet your friends/torture me:
- YOU’RE GREAT WHERE YOU ARE, WHY CAN’T YOU BE HAPPY WITH WHERE YOU ARE
2) To the girl whose hair repeatedly fell into my drink:
- I COULD CUT THIS OFF AND SELL IT, YOU KNOW. TO MAKE UP FOR THE HAIRY $5.50 THAT WAS ONCE THIS DELICIOUS BEVERAGE.
3) To the people who were dancing up against me like I was the physical embodiment of their personal space:
- I EXIST
- Follow-up: WHO RAISED YOU
4) To the people whom I believed to be finished wading through the crowd, who then waded past me again:
- SERIOUSLY, LIFE IS SO AWESOME WHEN YOU STAY IN ONE PLACE
5) To the people who stood in the middle of the pit, not dancing:
- THERE IS A PLACE FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU, AND IT IS #NOT #HERE
6) To the people whom I mentally reprimanded for standing in the middle of the pit and not dancing, when I suddenly got super tired in the middle of the pit and stopped dancing:
- …sorry
All in all, a successful adventure, made difficult only by the Millennial sardine complex.
*The Whiskey Republic
Image via.