“DOWN IT FRESHER!” There I was, cornered amongst the ironing boards of a humid student flat, 30 odd students crammed into a kitchen- lounge in our ‘beach party’ themed get-up, attempting to intoxicate myself for the fifth night in a row. Loud music sounded though someones very swanky looking MacBook Air from atop the fridge and a hap-hazard game of beer pong was taking place amongst the havok.
“WHO WANTS SHOTTSSS?!” Yelled a daring Dutchman wearing a bandana from across the room. He lunged himself hither and thither with a bottle of Glens Vodka in each hand, freely dispensing it wherever it was wanted. Shoulder top wrestling commenced outside while a seemingly sober group of people attempted ‘Ultimate Frisbee’ with their flat mates crockery. All this before we even leave campus.
After some time of increased drunken debauchery around the student village, the hoard dispersed to find the bus stop… where is it? When does the bus come? Which stop do we need and where are we even going? So many questions to which no one had any decipherable answer.
After much consulting with a (clearly very distressed and fed-up) bus driver, we reached our destination- the nightclub! Hurrah! But look, the que stretches halfway down the street forcing many desperate punters to find a quiet alleyway in which to empty their bladders and throw away old bottles of back-washed pre-drink. Inside, the club was full and booming; while waiting in line for a drink I observed awkward hook-ups… they looked so nervous and afraid of each other I begin to wonder what the actual point of the whole exercise is “there’s no point” confirmed my Norweigen flatmate “It’s just the alcohol”.
Anyway, enough about the sweaty clubs and filthy hangovers, that’s half the challenge; the other half is trying to work out where you need to be for your enrollment, how the library works (it’s very futuristic if there’s anything to be said from it), and where to buy food and aspirins. It’s all very confusing and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so clueless in my twenty years but at least we’re all in it together, eating food from Iceland and signing up to way too many societies and clubs in the midst of the Freshers Fair.
Though it was a fun week and I met so many interesting, witty and vivacious young people all living within four hundred meters of me, let’s just say I’m glad it’s over. That is, until next year when I’ll probably find myself being a club promoter or warden of some description to pay for the rent. Until then, I’ll let my liver rest and put my brain in gear for some hard-out study time!