It’s that time of year where the sun is setting earlier and earlier, but today something feels off…maybe it’s the seasonal depression in full swing, or maybe it’s the fact that all of my professors decided to make assignments due at the same time, or maybe, just maybe, an eerie but familiar presence has made its way on campus. I check the calendar, debating what exactly today is. It’s a bit after Halloween, so that can’t be it. It’s a few days past the anniversary of the day I will possibly never forget, and it’s not even a Thursday, which is objectively the most eerie day of the week. So what could it even be? Mom always told me that I’m good at the dramatics, and she’s never wrong, so that must be the case. 

I shake off the sense of dread and make my trek to the dining hall. Aramark always fixes my mood, it’s the one true sense of stability I have this time of year. I mean seriously, did all of the professors band together to make sure this one week in November caused me to have to book back to back therapy appointments? Can a guy really not catch a break in these trying times? A quick, squeaky, sound happens in the distance, but I convince myself it’s just the mold. I mean wait, what mold? Black and Mold Disadvantage is just a myth remember? It can’t hurt me, it’s not real. Unlike the picture of Trombley and Beyonce where Beyonce looks more scared in that photo than when Kanye West got on stage at the 2009 VMAs, but I digress. 

I step outside the comfort of my dorm and am met with screams. Loud screams, shrill screams, the kind of screams that are described in movies and books, the kind of screams I never expected to hear in the real life year of 2025. But I’m here, and people are screaming, and I don’t know what to do. The campus cats scurry away, Pumpkin looks at me in a way that I can only assume is cat speak for “save yourself”. This seems like a bigger job than SUPD can handle, it must be the end of the world. That’s the only real explanation for all of these screams. 

The problem is, no one seems concerned. I understand that we all have our own problems, but what does that even matter when it is so clearly obvious that the world is ending? Unfortunately, my desire to figure out what in the dystopian universe is happening outweighs my sense of self preservation and safety. Just like any good pirate, I secure my Pirate Card and trudge forward. The Pirate Card is important to keep track of, which apparently is something not everyone understands. The closer I get to the heart of campus, the louder the screams become. I think to myself that this must be it, only a self-sacrificing idiot would continue this journey, but I’ve come so far and I have no other choice. At last, there I am, standing in the middle of the academic mall, my heart pounding, my ears ringing, people still screaming, as well as chanting for some unknown reason. This is it. This is what I hear before I die. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, and then I open them, prepared for this to be the last thing I see before I depart from this earth; but then I see it, something I had not noticed before. Sorority girls. They’re screaming at me and everyone in earshot; which let me tell you, with those lungs, it’s the entirety of Georgetown. A sudden wave of realization hits me. Mock rush. This is mock rush. It’s not a dystopian universe, or the end of the world, but instead a bunch of girls begging for you to be their “sister” or whatever fits into the strange family tree they have going on. They chant for you to join and see what it’s like to be a part of something bigger than yourself. At least that’s what I think they’re saying, I always turn my music up to volumes that one might assume would be damaging to my ears, but in reality it’s quiet compared to the screams surrounding me. Part of me feels silly for thinking this was the final day the earth would ever see, but if you only heard the screams, you’d understand. To you, dear reader, the day you hear the screams is the day you can finally #besouthwestern.