As I walked onto Dartmouth’s campus, not knowing one thing from the next, I looked into my crystal ball, trying to envision how would I adjust to these new social experiences - given that high school social life revolved around hanging out at Dunkin’ Donuts till 11:01PM every weekend. As Orientation week finished up, I realized stark contrasts between my days of being a high school baller to my future nights as a Freshman Fall-er at Dartmouth. I reeled at first: No Beirut? No more blasting Kelly Clarkson out of my car window? No one respects my sweet Air Jordans, but Birkenstocks are apparently the proverbial “shit”? Welcome to the Twilight Zone. I realized in those first few days of Orientation that I had a lot to learn about life at Dartmouth.

The first night, my trip leader had invited me over to a frat – a place where the conventional boundaries that separate “wrestling arena” from “toilet” from “dumpster” are completely blurred. As I walked down Frat Row, I could almost see myself stumbling up and down Webster Avenue for the next four years. My trepidation kicked in when the notion of knocking on this frat’s front door arose in my ‘10 mind. Using my better judgment, I walked around to the side door and tapped ever-so-respectfully on the panes of glass. A frat brother walked up to me, spotted my ‘10 hood rather quickly and let me in. I quickly found Mike who said that we would play a game of “pong.”

Now, here is the thing about pong: You suck for a while, sometimes even forever. It is just not as simple as Beirut where you fill up ten cups with three beverages and throw a ball around until you get bored or until there is something good to watch on TV that’s not Grey’s Anatomy. Pong is a team game. You have to focus (or at least try, depending on your state of mind) and actually keep the game going. On this particular night, while the brothers were trying quite hard to help me with learning the ropes and developing a stroke, I seemed to lose about three or four games. I was quickly “initiated” right into the spirit of Dartmouth. It was interesting to realize the difference between what people think Dartmouth is like - given its Ivy League status - and the reality of the social scene. One word for it comes to mind: ridiculous.

Dartmouth’s schedule perfectly compliments the social scene as well. In high school, we pretty much lived for the weekends. Dartmouth does not play around like that at all. I found that Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday pretty much were as dependable for partying as the Baker Tower clock is for time. On these four nights a week, if you are in the mood to go out, to have some Keystone, and maybe find that not-so-special someone, you can simply walk down Frat Row and see what is going on. While there is the impulse to go out often, we must tread with caution. While our parents are not within a 200-mile radius (for most of us), Safety and Security is still around. During and before Orientation, I heard fairytale stories describing S&S as a group of Mother Hens. “No, they won’t do anything and they won’t ever pick you up if you are okay.” Please, that’s why the first Friday night of this term Dick’s house was so full that they had to put the ‘10s on the floor and couches (but this event does cause me to have some class pride: rage on). No, S&S is some bizarre mix between the boogie man and the Soviet secret police.

Orientation taught me two important lessons about partying at Dartmouth. One: Don’t walk around drunk by yourself. And two: Avoid the area around the Green. Hopefully these small tips will help others in the future.

My freshman sensibilities were confounded by many other Dartmouth mores as well, though, as Orientation sloshed on. Music-listening behavior, taste in clothes, and Blitz were chief among them. Listening to the radio has become an activity only for those from Planet Real World. Most of the music I’ve heard (besides my floormates’) has consisted of tunes on a variety of frat playlists. While I did hear some similar songs like The Game’s “Let Me Put You On The Game,” I also heard songs that were only played on a station from my hometown called Oldies 100. This change from the Billboard 100 music which I experienced in high school struck me in particular. Marvin Gaye playing while people are playing pong: This is how love happens.

The change in music was as drastic for me as the change in basic apparel. No more bright colored polos, or fancy get-ups of any type, just some t-shirt or sweatshirt with an obscure reference to something from the 80’s. Relaxed and casual seem to be the preferred style of the Dartmouth student. And then there’s Birkenstock phenomenon. I had a pair at home and was labeled as a pothead and other non-complimentary titles. Now that I’m here, I can’t rock my Air Jordans and get props - that’s for damn sure.

And of course, there is Blitz. Cell phones were the preferred means of communication at home, but now, after Orientation, I hear the phrase “blitz me” more then anything (after “Drink your beer, freshman!”). I mean, lets be honest—it is as if Dartmouth wants us to socialize during classes.

As Orientation wrapped up, James Wright urged my class to strive to make the most of this place called Dartmouth College, And, I wondered, maybe, just maybe – after four years of playing pong, hanging out, and eating at The HOP - I could ever look at high-tops, pink polos, and good beer the same again.