The car slowed to a stop and the squeak of old dust on tyre breaks passed through my temporal lobe with a deafening volume. Every motion, noise and visual was amplified in my nervous, exhausted hung-over brain. I felt horrible, I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice. After all, this was not only an immersion exercise, it was my first attendance to a Digs Formal.
On Saturday night, a digs that name now escapes me had their last digs formal of 2009. My friend, Pooch, demanded over some rather suspicious looking residence food that I was invited and would be picked up at 18:00 - the theme, Las Vegas Formal. I figured this would be a novel way for me to broaden my horizons and meet new folk.
I believe that instead of teaching innocent first years about the dire woes that can unfold should they run out of printing credit for the printers, we would be much more equip to tackle all the dangers that university life hurls at us if we were taught about real, consequential dilemmas. For example, the concept of Baby Seal Clubbing (a Rhodes ritual whereby 1st year, intoxicated girls are manipulated into making out with an older student), the insane drugs scene within the small town, or the real events that occur within the confines of a digs formal.
Yes, I knew I would be expected to kiss my partner (whether I had any intention if fulfilling this expectation is irrelevant) but the rest even an un-gendered, promiscuous, Thai prostitute could not have imagined.
After an undisclosed amount of bottles of shooters each, we began the party. It soon became apparent that the poker, boat races, story telling and other seemingly innocent party practices all had sexual undertones. If it weren’t the dirty language it was a the punishments that the losers performed that made us live up to the student name that has been aptly dubbed to Rhodes students: Raucous Alcoholics.
In hindsight, I look back with a slight cringe festering just below the glimmer of a laughing smile. I enjoyed my evening. After the amount of alcohol consumed I think I have not destroyed, but rather preserved my liver and may in fact be immortal. Furthermore, I now know to avoid any future invites to a digs formal and have resigned the agenda of my own future formals to cheap cocktails, pretty dresses and cake with the girls.
I will not divulge names or actual events about my evening. I tried something new. I don’t regret it because now I know that I am not a ‘digs formal’ kind of girl. Now that the hangover has faded and the shame of not remembering my dates name has dissipated I have returned to the relative safety of New House and have decided that I like our parties just the way they are.
After my encounter, mainly the intense vomiting that ensued the next morning, I felt cheap and slightly dirty. Yes, I had loads of raucous fun. However, it was the type of fun my parents would despair of and Paris Hilton would applaud. I guess I must now salute my parents and once again admit whole-heartedly that their advice is sound, solid and worthwhile...it really is possible to have TOO much fun.
Yes I may have embarrassed myself by describing this activity, but think of it as a farewell blog gift...my leaving present to all those who are contemplating going to a digs formal.