A bootycall got my car towed. Ah, Relays.
Tag Archives: Drake Relays
I can’t believe I missed my own birthday/anniversary! Today as I sat at the sorority house while some of my sisters were getting ready to go out, I realized that I had started blogging this time last year.
I’d say a lot has happened in that year. I graduated. I got a part-time job, more gigs in the mag world, and into grad school. I learned to cook more things than just cheese tortillas (boiling water for pasta was a big step). I became addicted to Netflix. I had a random guy ask me for my number for the first time. I visited Boston. I saw some amazing concerts and signed my first apartment lease. I did some things I had always wanted, and definitely discovered some new things about myself.
I wasn’t ready for a lot of it. I’m not as ‘disheveled’ as I was in my first post– although I’m still quite uncertain. But it’s cool. I like where I’m at, who I’m with, and where I’m going. And there are a lot more unexpected things to come.
That’s what a lot of people say about the Drake Relays. It’s a 7-10 day drinking binge for Drake students, alumni, and willing attendants. There’s a big track meet or something, too. (LoLo Jones ate it, again! And we thought the summer Olympics fall was a fluke.)
It’s the one time of the year, or so I’ve found, that you absolutely cannot be ready for. Dogtown expands and everything changes. Bars are packed, prices skyrocket (and, interestingly enough, you never pay the same amount for a beer, even if it’s from the same bartender at the same bar as you were the night before), you don’t know anyone, and the crowd is overzealous alumni instead of inexperienced freshmen. Although both are at equal levels of intoxication. Parking is a bitch and you have to pay no matter where you go…if you can even get there because the streets are blocked off or there’s some impromptu race down University.
Your body, especially, is not ready. It can never be ready. No matter how much pre-Relays training you go through, there’s no hope. Your body simply cannot handle the vicious cycle of too-drunk-to-hungover. The secondary spillover turns into damaged friendships, front yards, parking lots, cameras, cell phones, bedding, and body parts. But it heals, you buy a new one, clean up your mess, and wait until next spring.
Drake Relays 2009…100 years never looked so good.
My left eye defied authority last night. When I got home from my boyfriend’s house, it started crying. Just the slightest bit really–only a couple tears. A weak mutinous attempt that nonetheless threw me off. I’m not excited that five weeks out, parts of me are already not exactly ready to graduate. I have one formal,one street painting, two booze cruises, one and a half weeks of Drake 100th Relays, one crush party, four papers and three finals left. Not to mention a move-in date for the apartment that’s bigger than my bedroom, bathroom, “playroom” and “clubhouse” combined.
I know I’m not exactly ready to start all over again. I’m just hoping that my right eye has already come to terms with graduation, and it’s not going to be surprised come May.