College campuses across the nation are generally the same: places of learning and business where young men and women find themselves and their futures. Or, these days, crippling student debt. Of course, there is a secret life to college students – one that's been filmed or written about ad nauseum for almost as long as higher-education was a thing.
Weekly rituals, celebrating the beginning of the weekend are just one of them. It's Thursday and it's Thirsty. Tonight, with the throbbing pulse of dance music spilling out of the open door and the promise of Jungle Juice in the air, Sigma Alpha Epsilon's Frat House is alight with raucous noise and flooded with light.
Cars line up along the street and other houses around are curiously empty.
A couple of frat-brothers are enjoying the mild Sacramento Night, sitting on lawn-chairs that are two years past their due date, outside, smoking a cigarette and drinking Matty Ice.
Everyone knows Matty Ice and his thirty-stones.
An empty bottle of Jack sits sentry on the nearby front-porch railing.
A group of girls pass through the door with the letters of Sigma Delta Tau across their chest and tight skinny-jeans. They've obviously pre-gamed.
But for a couple of others, this is the perfect time to gather some information. Who's the best professors, who are the big men on campus, and all those things that – before 2005 and the advent of Facebook – were confined to AOL instant messenger and over Ultimate Frisbee games on the green.
West Avis Cross (?) Djinn (?)
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