As the sun rises the Friday morning of Fall Blowout, the little A&O elves scurry to finish preparations at Welsh-Ryan Arena. You’re in bed—potentially sleeping off a Deuce hangover—getting all the beauty rest you’ll need for the day’s festivities—emphasis on day. Because the concert starts so early (7:30 p.m.), chances are you’ll begin drinking when the sun is still out. This is both a blessing and a curse.
Nothing screams underage NU students quite like a BYOB dinner. Take your pick: Cozy, Olive Mountain, Zoba. But get there early to avoid the outrageous wait times. To be safe, plan to arrive at 6. This means you’ll roll in around 6:30. Pop your cheap bottle of champagne/sparkling wine (we’d obviously recommend Andre), open that jug of wine, or crack those bottles of Corona, but make sure to also throw some food into the mix. You don’t want to crash and burn before the show because you’re the dumb bitch that decided her waistline was more important than her longevity. We’ve all been there. Save face and some carbs.
Finish your meal, but more importantly your drinks, by 7:15. You’re on a time crunch: the doors have opened and the opener is on. There’s already no room on the floor, but unless you’re a diehard fan, you don’t care. More important than floor seats is reaching the perfect sustainable buzz. So naturally you head north to a frat pregame. The headliner’s music is playing in the background and, if you’re lucky, the frat bros have concocted a festive beverage. Fight your way to the front of the drink line. Reach your ideal level of intoxication no later than 8:30. Hop on a bus and head to the arena.
That is if you’re lucky enough to catch a bus. Maybe you lost track of time. Now you’re taking a cab. Unfortunately, no cab driver is exactly thrilled to schlep a bunch of hammered undergrads so, chances are, he’s rude. That’s fine. Just don’t tip.
You’re finally at your destination—Welsh Ryan—and your hurried pregame is finally catching up with you. If you’re smart, you’ve got a flexible flask hidden where even an expert frisking won’t be able to find it. Translation: it’s up your pants in your underwear or, if you’re a lucky, well endowed lady, between your boobs. You put on your best sober act and avoid making much conversation with security.
So you didn’t get a spot on the floor. All hope is not lost. If you’re unhappy with your seats in the stands and care enough to casually and nondescriptly attempt to get onto the oh-so-exclusive floor, sneak your way down by hopping a barricade. Or two. You’re drunk and confident so it’s fine as long as you don’t catch the eye of security. With much more room on the floor, you begin to feel the music. Set your eyes on a hookup, if that’s what you’re in the mood for, and gauge how prepared your feel for PDA.
You’ve landed your partner and things are going great until the show ends at 11. Unfortunately for you, there are very few after party options. With the show on a Friday, god knows the Keg is off limits. You’re headed home before midnight and it’s time to cross your fingers, bring your hookup home, and potentially sexile your roommate. You started early, so unfortunately, chances are your evening will end early.
