Summer is here but that also means September is coming — September 18 to be exact. For about 2,000 high school graduates headed for Northwestern, we’re only 3 months away from college. I’m one of them. My name is Jenny An from Ann Arbor, Mich. No longer a prospie, I also don’t know much more about Northwestern other than what Facebook, some friends and the university administration will tell me. But that’s why I’m writing this — because they can tell me that everyone dresses up as chicken on Saturday mornings and I’ll probably do it.
With the help of some current students, Wikipedia, Undeclared and maybe some e-mailing, this blog will hopefully prepare the Class of 2011 for the next 4 years of their lives — so well prepared that when move-in day comes around, the only questions will be, “Where are the bathrooms?” and “Where are all the cute guys/girls?”
Looking to answer some of my own questions (namely: “Which dorm should I live in?”), I finally spent some time on campus again. Already committed, I took my “prospie” Northwestern visit in May and it was well worth it. It was certainly different than the G-rated tours around the Lakefill I had taken with my mother, which convinced her that NU is G-rated everyday — but then again, she doesn’t believe that people party or drink at the University of Michigan, even though she has lived next door for 10 years.
I arrived on the rainy afternoon of Dillo Day 2007. Weinberg sophomore Priya Malhotra told me Dillo Day was “the day Northwestern parties like a state school,” featuring outdoor concerts, free food and lots of all-day debauchery. Sadly, the rain forced the organizing group, Mayfest, to move this year’s concert lineup — including The Roots, Lupe Fiasco and Cake — inside to Patten Gym. With a maximum capacity of 5500, about half of expected attendance of the concerts, Dillo Day’s music soon became limited to NU students providing a WildCard (school ID) to verify.
After a few frantic phone calls to friends on my way to Patten and after hearing a few girls on their cell phones reporting that their friends’ WildCards had been taken by University Police (UP), my host and I took a rainy walk back. For the next three days I kept hearing stories about puking in the bushes and got tips on how to avoid stepping in that puke. I also picked up other gems of advice about roommates, friends, dating and classes — which I will figure out and write about in the next 3 months if senioritis will ever leave me alone.