“Sorry, it’s freshman night only, I can’t let you in.” And thus the bouncer filtered out any preying upperclassmen from
“Sorry, it’s freshman night only, I can’t let you in.”
And thus the bouncer filtered out any preying upperclassmen from the First Chance Dance—or “last chance dance,” as one freshman deemed it, only too appropriately.
Freshmen awkwardly looking for someone to sit with were replaced by freshmen awkwardly looking for dance partners, groups of freshmen girls dancing in protective entryway clusters, and overly enthusiastic males attempting to infiltrate these clusters.
In front of the dancers were scattered Crimson Key Society members, recognizable by their red sweatshirts and unassailable pep. Not allowed to fraternize with the impressionable innocents per unspoken policy, the Keysters instead acted to prevent anyone from getting too close to D.J. Peter “Petros” C. Shields ’09, already the recipient of his fair share of fans—both freshmen and older.
“I’m glad we didn’t violate the fire code, because Peter Shields was so hot,” commented Keyster Robert P. Ciofani ’09. Shouts of “Petros! Petros!” could be heard even during the announcements asking the freshmen to stop dancing on the tables (the lone HUPD officer could only wave his flashlight at them) and stay away from the area behind the DJ booth.
But Shields wasn’t the only center of attention.
At one point in the evening, eight unself-conscious freshmen squared off in a contest for an iPod touch. The competitor with the most applause was Sam From Grays (otherwise known as Sam O. French ’12), a Londoner who said he was “happy to show these Americans how to dance.” Careful, Sam: Shields said “he should call me up because I want to challenge him to a dance-off.”
Dance-off threats aside, Shields clearly enjoyed the love blossoming on the dance floor to his tunes: “I missed my freshman week—so I’m living vicariously through their hookups.”