The inside of a sorority house. 

My best friend from high school has been completely “obsessed” with her sorority since our freshman year at our respective schools. I’ve helped her write her speech for sorority elections, partied with her and her “sisters” this summer and constantly try to get them to teach me the secret handshake (which no one remembers anyway). But I’ve never seen the actual location.

Naturally, when my friend and I finally found a weekend I could visit, I was ecstatic. Is it just like Legally Blonde? Do they constantly sing “Build Me Up Buttercup” while jumping on the beds as I have witnessed in the past?

I started to panic. What would I wear? I don’t have any Ugg boots, they’re all going to hate me! “What’s a mixer?”

When I got dropped off at the house, my heart raced…was that a pink wall I could see through the window?

Indeed it was. In fact, not only was that wall pink, but as was the entire inside, with a big staircase in the foyer. I got a tour, and found out that they have two pianos that no one plays. There was also a poster you could sign if you got a good grade on an exam.

“We used to have the highest GPA on campus,” my friend explained. “Until my pledge class came.”

I learned that a mixer was a party hosted by a frat that pretty much served the purpose of giving the pledges some boys to hang out with, and was not open to the public.  This one was “Playboy” themed.

As we were getting ready, I got a my first taste of sorority drama…there were pledges upstairs!   We were drinking wine that the girls had to hide in a suitcase in the luggage closet in the hall because there is no alcohol allowed in the house, so we were setting a bad example that they certainly could not witness.  There was some running in and out of rooms, some “who let them in here,” “we can’t just kick them out,” and some “wait, do we like her?” going on, but the drama was soon resolved.

“When do we start the hazing?” I asked.

Only the pledges were dressing in theme, so everyone else instinctively put on black leggings, black shoes, long black or dark gray shirts/dresses, with black flats or pumps. This was not planned.

People were running back and forth through the hallways, making sure their all-black ensembles matched, borrowing hair straighteners, stressing out over ballet flats vs. pumps and belt vs. no belt. Finally, we were ready. We went downstairs to meet the pledges, and I tried to make them sing the Greek alphabet, but to my dismay, none of them knew it yet.  Rats! I wanted to haze them, but it is sort of illegal.

At the mixer, we scored some bunny ears to wear, and went over to the bar area to score some very classy fruit punch-and-Popov cocktails. Oh la la!  Those boys know how to treat the ladies!

Pretty soon, the night took a turn for the worse when a couple of the pledges started to get incoherently drunk.  The older girls were not too happy about this and spent all night running people back and forth to the house or dorms  and telling them to never, under no circumstances, to mention the name of the house if they got an MIP.  Angry words were said and a stern talking-to/threat was planned out for the next day. Tired and hungry, we ordered some very tasty pizza and called it a night.

The next morning, there was a tailgate version of last night’s outfit-matching session. This meant wearing leggings in a new color, and choosing long sleeve vs. short sleeve, grey shoes vs. blue shoes.  And should I straighten my hair?

Unfortunately, that was as long as I had time to stay in the house, and was not lucky enough to partake in tailgate festivities, since my work schedule back in East Lansing was beckoning. No only did I leave with my very own Bid Day t-shirt, keychain and notebook, I left with my newfound insight to the world of the college social club that we all know as the Greek system. 

It is a very stressful world, filled with self-constructed, complicated drama. It is a world filled with lots of matching outfits, hidden boxes of Franzia and a pressing social schedule that sort of takes over one’s life. Though I couldn’t handle it on a regular basis, I can’t wait to go back and visit. And I’ll be sure to bring my leggings next time.