NIGHT FOUR

And on NIGHT FOUR, Walter Annenberg created the Pregame.

REWIND: NIGHT THREE

+ THE 4k4 DARTY

The greatest vibes we've seen all NSO, presenting: legendary music, Hawaiian leis, and quintessential darty Slip 'n Slide. No roof access this time, but the best NSO party yet regardless.

OVERHEARD: "I haven't been this wet at ZBT since our mixer freshman year"

+ THE APES/OZ DARTY

Great weather, and a great start to the day on the backlot. Music was nothing new, but was exactly what we needed to begin our darty-filled day right.

OVERHEARD: "Need. Ramen. Now."

+ FOUR PILLAR

Music was exactly what you'd expect. Plenty of US Top 50, and plenty of freshmen singing along. Hot and sticky, but not in a good way.

OVERHEARD: "Where are the pillars?"

+ PHI

Great people, and even better music — no surprise at Phi. The phun didn't last long though, as Penn Police arrived in full force just as the party was peaking.

OVERHEARD: "Let us in, this is my boyfriend" "I don't believe you, but come on in anyway"

TONIGHT'S PLAYLIST: GO DEEP.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

THE NIGHTS | avicii x mike mago

WIZARD | martin garrix x tchami

FUEGO | alok

PROMESSES | tchami

I WANNA | habstrakt

NOTORIOUS | malaa

I WARE HOUSE | joyryde

FOUND YOU | throttle

UTOPIA | dombresky

THE RIGHT SONG | tiesto x oliver heldens

HAPPENING:

3:00 PM | 233 S 42nd St

10:30 PM | 4046 Spruce

10:30 PM | 215 S 42nd St

11:30 PM | 4041 Walnut

THROWBACK STORY: SEABASS

"Piling into a distinctly stained sofa in a room at the end of a dark corridor, "Seabass", as he had revealed his name to be a mere ten minutes earlier, beckoned me into his room. Arms above his sides he triumphantly gestured to the contents of his room, presumably waiting for feedback on the decor. Right above his sofa was an enormous American flag juxtaposed with an equally enormous cannabis leaf.

Mustering all the excitement my drunken stupor could manage, I gave him a single thumbs up and a quivering smile, judiciously reminding myself to breath as I sunk into his sticky, suede sofa. Here I was, moments beforehand simply wandering around the upstairs of a frat house alone and now this kind, aquatically named stranger had welcomed me into his, albeit shitty, abode.

"I'm Seabass."

"Yup."

"You like my room?"

"Yup."

It was at this point, as the dirty yellow light fell upon his face, that I realised, on my first night at frat parites, I had encountered a literal cartoon character; a plumper, curlier-haired and undoubtedly wealthier John Belluschi from Animal House.

The events that followed I have and will puzzle over for many years to come. In one single motion with the agility of a cat, Seabass produced a bong as large as my torso. He packed it and ripped it with absolute ferocity, all while maintaining a kind of smug but intense eye contact. His body filled like a balloon and then billowed smoke out of every orifice. The wheeze-scream that followed was muffled by a pillow that he pressed deep into his face. In equal parts admiration and terror, I received the bong in my trembling hands and began to attempt to emulate my new hero. Erupting in a fit of coughing and retching, I emerged from the cloud of smoke I had just created and began to fuse with the couch I was sitting on.

It is unclear how much time passed in these following moments, but what I do know is that they were spent in complete synchronization. At some point we both stood up and shook hands. I think Seabass saw something of himself in me: a true zest for life, masked by deep apprehension and youthful doubt. Perhaps I flatter myself in this comparison, but I can't think of another reason why he took me under his wing (or fin).

Then, suddenly and with not insignificant force, I was ushered out of his room with friendly intensity and heard the door slam behind me. I was alone just as abruptly as I had established a connection. However, instead of feeling entirely empty, my life suddenly felt full. Gone was the existential despair I had experienced at the Philadelphia Museum of Art party, utterly sober, the night before. All that was left now was optimism.

Completely out of my mind, I walked back to the quad that night having made my first friend at Penn; the interaction had only lasted around 10 minutes but what Seabass and I had shared was primal; a basic understanding, Penn's version of a reassuring nod to let me know I was going to be alright.

I never spoke to Seabass ever again. Some say he works for JP Morgan now. "

fin.

TIP OF THE DAY:

Find your Seabass; connections don't have to be lasting to be memorable.

SOMETHING DOPE:

To complete your Penn vocabulary.