In a great Seinfeld episode, the gang uses the phrase ‘yada, yada, yada’ to abridge stories and downplay suspicious behavior. The colloquial is still commonly used in a similar fashion, and it is pertinent to the story in this article. This is not to say that what happened on a rainy Tuesday is of the utmost interest to the readers of The College Voice, but instead to protect those moments left in privacy categorized under ‘yada, yada, yada.’ The gossip that could flow throughout this article is not the target, instead like the gang in Seinfeld, this is a tale of hodgepodge camaraderie.
Senioritis has truly set in: I couldn’t imagine going to my 10:25 the next morning (let alone my 2:45) [side note: totally went to those classes and was a shining example of student excellence]. The only thing I could focus on was the night ahead of me. On the night of Tuesday, Aril 15, my closest 75 Conn friends [slight exaggeration] and I got ready to take a #selfie. Not even the monsoon outside could diminish my good mood. Around 8:30 pm four mini yellow school buses pulled up outside of JA. As much as it seemed that they were preparing to take us to the asylum or not, these buses were ordered previously to ship the hordes of Conn students to Foxwoods.
I would say one of the most impressive aspects of the night was the way Conn students self-organized. Several students spearheaded the campaign for buses, and the rest should owe a great deal of gratitude to them. As the students boarded the arks, the rain escalated. But who could care? We were about to confine ourselves to the deepest, darkest hollows of Foxwoods, lost in a wolf pack of despair and high rollers.
The four buses pulled up to Foxwoods releasing the hounds. The students charged into the casino like they were part of the latest 300 movie. Looking at the faces of the staff at Foxwoods was my personal favorite. Their mouths agape and the sheer look of awe said it all. (“This is the weirdest school field trip ever”). The pack bee-lined to the bathroom and everyone fixed themselves from the rain. After that pandemonium broke lose.
The kindest words were said amongst the crowd of students. “I don’t even care about the Chainsmokers, this event is just fun to be with everyone.” That sentiment stayed true for the rest of the evening. My fellow students and I swarmed around Shrine outnumbering the rest of the non Conn rabble, imbecilic enough to go to a concert on a Tuesday night, in body mass and positive attitude.
Glitter fell from the ceiling as the Chainsmokers preformed and the Conn kids rhythmically jumped to the beat. That previously mentioned positive attitude rung true, till about 1:30 a.m. Then the tiredness set in. The look of the aftermath was similar to the beginning, except everyone was soaked in sweat instead of rain. Confetti stuck to the students making them look like colorful group of Dalmatians. Shoes and makeup slipped off with ease. There was a new atmosphere amongst the group of Conn kids determined to find any place to kneel or sit as we waited to get herded like sheep back into the buses.
The bus ride back was joyous as everyone started nostalgically thinking of the night. Back at Conn the mood was still elated, but the exhaustion had finally overpowered everyone. I have never felt closure to my class; physically, in the tight dance space of Shrine, and mentally. We bonded, we conquered, and we took a #selfie.
