As a college freshman and the oldest sibling in my family, everything in college life is new to me like a toddler who just arrived at Disney World for the first time. I see everything, the good and the bad, through rose-colored glasses.
Or — as they say here in “Gainesvegas” — beer goggles.
So as I’m still settling into this utopia of higher education, I’ve picked up on a few things, such as surviving Student Government elections, mastering the RTS bus routes and hating on FSU.
This weekend I learned about the reincarnation of B-list holidays.
Take St. Patrick’s Day, for example. Back in kindergarten, St. Paddy’s Day was a day of chocolate gold coins found in black pots, leprechauns and lucky four-leaf clovers.
Then around middle school, we played the cool factor and ditched all traditions of wearing green. March 17 was just another humdrum day in our pubescent lives.
From what I witnessed this past Saturday, people without a twig of Irish in the family tree pounded green-dyed beer as if it were water. I could have mistaken Mother’s Pub for an actual pub in Dublin — the Irish pride was evident.
St. Patrick’s Day, along with Valentine’s Day, Halloween, Mardi Gras, Cinco de Mayo, Oktoberfest and the Super Bowl (which might as well be a holiday, as it is the most-watched program on television in the U.S.) are making their comeback on college campuses.
I’m no expert, but I’ve noticed a trend in all these celebrations. There is a uniform recipe to a successful holiday: Blend tacky party decorations and cheap dress-up clothes. Add alcohol. Mix in regretful mobile uploads. Enjoy.
College has shown me that you don’t need to wait for a nationally recognized holiday to roll around to party. If you’re stuck in a boring month like September, anything can serve as an excuse for a party. Anything.
Last month, I was invited to a friend of a friend’s dog’s birthday party. From what I remember, I don’t recall seeing a canine panting around the shabby Midtown apartment or anything celebrating the dog in his honor. I just remember a lot of red Solo cups and contraband.
These four years have been handed to us to, yes, get an education, but also to live it up before we get boring again.
In a matter of a few years, we’re ushered out holding a piece of paper with President Bernie Machen’s signature and told to find a real job with a salary, file federal taxes and get our lives together.
Soon, after-parties and beer pong tournaments will be reduced to something to reminisce about with somewhat-successful college buddies. Dirty diapers and parent-teacher conferences will become an underwhelming reality. The next thing to look forward to will be retirement. A very, very far away retirement.
I like to see college as the halfway house into that daunting real world. It serves a buffer between the two purgatories we call childhood and adulthood. It has all the freedom of being an adult with all the responsibility of being a teenager.
So for now, let’s take on commercialized holidays and use them for what they’re worth: a time to get together with friends, make some memories and then forget them.
It doesn’t hurt to be Irish, Mexican or German for a day or to exploit traditions for a good time.
In the span of a lifetime, four years is just an insignificant fraction. But they might just be the most significant four years of your life.
Colleen Wright is a journalism freshman at UF. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
