RUSH: AN OUTSIDER'S STORY
An interesting, yet familiar smell filled my nostrils when I set foot in the building. My hands were full of christmas presents, and things I felt sure I must bring back with me. How I would fit all of this shit in the dorm room was yet to be determined. I had heavy bags of clothes strapped across my chest, and I could bearly breathe--but I inhaled as deeply as I could, taking in the air around me. That aeroma, a somewhat plesent smell of aerosol ment to hide the musty stench of an old college residence hall, reminded me of a time in my life that I would never forget. As if it happened yesterday, I can recall every last detail...
The time is one semester ago--my first taste of college. On a hot mid-August day, one week before school started, I was already here on campus moving into my dorm room. Rush week would formally begin the next morning and I was terrorfied. Not only was I officially on my own for the first time, but my college courses would be starting soon. And, to make things worse, I would spend this entire week being observed up and down by my peers. They would notice either my confidence or my self-doubt; allowing them to judge whether I was worthy to be a part of their select organization that they call fraternity.
Though, technically, I was rushing every white fraternity on campus; I didn't even know half of the greek alphabet. That row of houses on the hill all seemed to sit just a bit higher than any other buildings on campus. I stood in the front of them and looked up, feeling as if this mansion before me could swoop down and swallow me whole. What am I doing here? I found myself questioning over and over again. A fraternity guy--ME?! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't realistically picture myself wearing a 2-color shirt with greek letters splashed across the front. These guys all were bigger, wealthier, and more handsome than I am; why in God's name would they choose me?
It couldn't be postponed. The first day of formal rush was here. We were expected to dress casually; and made our way to a few houses that day. We spent just a little while in each one. The Actives clapped and cheered. In a completely superficial way, they were very excited to see us. Though the heat index soared at probably over 100 degrees, the lawns were saturated with people throwing the frisbee, getting in a game of football, showing us just how fun fraternity life really is. Anybody could see through this facade they held up in front of us. As I made my way into the foyer, I could see that there was a lot of hard work put into cleaning up--all to impresses us, the rushees. At many of the houses, there was a prevalent smell of alcohol on the actives; making us want a beer more than anything--a "dry" rush is unheard of, they would tell us. Conversation was uneasy and sketchy at best. What are you supposed to say to a complete stranger for upwards of thirty minutes? I hadn't a clue. Obviously, some people were better at this than others. It was a time when sincerity was sneered at and bullshit was a commodity. I, apparently, wasn't accustomed to this game of running around trying to meet as many people in as short a time as possible. But nobody said it was easy.
The day was finally over and, though there were only four parties or so, I was exhausted. The late-summer heat didn't help much, either. I felt like every inch of me had been scrutinized, looked up and down, like a test animal in some off-the-wall experiment. I couldn't imagine the thought of being rejected by the most influential people on the college level, before school even started. But that wasn't at all out of the realm of possibilities. What had I gotten myself into? I really thought about dropping out of rush.
Later that day was a rushee gathering, a "mixer" in their terms; a fun outing where we are all supposed to get to know one another. You could tell that people were there out of obligation and not by choice. There was a sense of uneasiness in the air as the fake smiles and countless handshakes made way for a low-level chatter between rushees. Greek names were flying about like a flock of drunk birds. "I'm rushing Iota Sigma Alpha..." "My brother was a Beta Zeta..." "Phi Lambdas are a bunch of faggots..." Then, there was the infamous "Kappa Tappa Keg" joke, once again overused. We all were tired, and spent our time looking around wondering who might end up where...
Day two of rush, and my confidence level had risen slightly. Unfortunately, I had visited three of my top five choices yesterday; but all I could do was focus on my other two that would be tackled this afternoon. Not long after showering, it was time for rushees to gather and make way for the row. You could see the looks in peoples' eyes--how much some wanted to be in a certain house; how some were legacies and were almost guaranteed membership; how some fit in, how some didn't, and how some were scared out of their minds. But nobody let on to anything. On the outside, our rushee world was optimistic and open-minded. The events of day 2 were identical to that of yesterday, but with different company. Some more "socialliting," talking until my throat was dry, sipping some watered-down punch, and that wrapped up the second day. We had been to all the houses and it was their turn to do the asking back. This was the turning point. For the first time, the ball was in their court.
I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, organizing, getting books, anything to rid myself of the nervous energy that had tackled my body. Tomorrow was the first round of pref parties. If you are invited back to a certain house, then it is a step in the right direction. If not, it's over between you and that house. Though I was dead tired, I couldn't get rush out of my mind--I had trouble sleeping. All I could think about was rush, rush, rush...
I woke up early, ready to check my pref sheet to see where I was invited back to. Having showered and all, I made my way over to the rushee center. My heart was pounding faster and faster as I got closer to the rushee center. In that distant building was a preprinted slip of paper, indicating which groups of people find me the least bit ideal, and which groups wouldn't give me a second look. "Nervous" was an understatement. As I walked up to the door, I felt my heart sink deeper and deeper into my chest. I could already see it, the excited looks on the faces of some, and the looks of hopelessness and despair on others. I would mimic one of those reactions, but which would it be? I strolled up to my rho chi, hiding my uneasiness as best I could. With a noticable quiver in my voice, I stated my name. Last name first. He shuffled through what looked like a hundred papers. At this point, I had hoped he lost the damn thing. I just wanted this to be over and done with. Finally, my paper was found. He took a brief, unhinting glance at the paper and then handed it over to me. I didn't look at it until I took a seat in the auditorium. I felt like my destiny was this white sheet of paper with black computer print on it. With confidence in one hand and cowardice in the other, I looked down and scanned the thing from top to bottom. On it was the one fraternity that had given me an early bid. I wasn't interested in pledging there. My body trembled as this realization registered in my mind. It felt as if someone had poured ice cold water down my back. I didn't want to accept these invitations when I have no interest whatsoever in pledging any of them. What was I going to do? I watched my high school friends get picked up, not by absolute top houses, but by frats that I would have liked; respectable groups. But I didn't even get invites those places. I was crushed. I don't consider myself a jealous person, but all I could think about was that they got in and I didn't. I couldn't force myself to pretend to be happy for them. All I could do was sit there, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making the least bit of sense. This was what happened, and I had to deal with it. I didn't have any choice...
After listening to the radio and driving around for what seemed like an eternity, I went back to the rushee center. The place was empty. Everybody had gone off to their gatherings, getting one step closer to the greek world than I did. An orangish late-afternoon sunlight flooded the mini-blinds in the "rush room," as we had come to call it. There I sat for about an hour, alone, in a trance-like state; allowing the rays to cast a pattern--strips of shadow and light reflecting on my face. I could see Greek Row from where I was sitting--houses with metallic golden greek letters above the door, boldly reflecting the sunlight that cast down upon them. It really hurt. These were the letters that were on my shirt that I was supposed wear on bid day. These funny-looking symbols were supposed to be drawn all over my notebooks for the next four years. My status was to change from independent to Greek, and I would be writing their alphabet as if I had learned it as a child. But, instead of merging, our worlds collided. No matter how hard I tried to block it out, the events of the prior few days surfaced in my mind--like photographic images piling one on top of the other, images of the 100+ people that I had come to meet during those few days. My mind created a blur of faces, the people I had seen during rush. I couldn't remember their names, all I could see were their smiling appearances--the guys who could have become my best friends, who could have become my "brothers"; were now the people who rejected me, the people who didn't give me a chance. I must have sat in that empty room for an hour or so, trying to concoct an excuse for what happened and how some good might come out of it. I couldn't find much to comfort me. Like it or not, rush week was my first week of college--and it was miserable. Though most didn't know it, that week was the most stressful, disappointing week of my entire life.
The week wore on, and I slept late most days. Occasionally, I would peer out of my window and see a group of well-dressed guys headed toward the row. I wondered what they had that I didn't have. Why they were chosen and I wasn't. There weren't many places I could go without being reminded of what happened. Sleeping the day away was my alternative.
Bid day finally came. It was inevitable, Bid day would be here whether I liked it or not. Before I came to college, I pictured what rush week would be like. Trying to have an optimistic attitude, I had an image in my mind of myself, soaked in beer, standing among my pledge class on that hot friday afternoon. I hoped to be out there with the best of them. I wanted be a pledge--there was no question about that. Once rush had begun, I completely blocked out the idea that I might not get in, that I might be snoozing the day away while the sun set on a bunch of drunk freshmen having the time of their lives. It still hurts to see "my" greek letters on somebody else's shirt, on somebody else's hat and on somebody else's car. I wanted it so badly, I deserved it. For some reason, it couldn't be mine.
-Anonymous Author
These pages � Everything Rush. May not be duplicated without written consent of author.
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