“I’ll have another one of those!” exclaimed Elsa Kandelman approvingly. However, the reason the floor swayed under our French fill-e was not actually her beverage, but the fact that we were afloat in Boston Harbor. As our pulsating pleasure palace described lazy circles just yards from the wharf (`I could swim from here!’ spouted one reveler, obviously expecting a whale-watching trip), 400 HBS-ers, their partners, and soon-to-be-partners swam in a happy, alcohol haze within.
Rock and Roll
Apart from the occasional pitch, yawl and roll, as the Spirit of Boston navigated through choppy Boston waves, the only other way you could tell you were on a boat since, by this stage, most had lost their short term memory, was the lilting tones of the captain – notably female – wishing us well on our journey.
The SA social committee – a wonderful bunch of selfless individuals – again showed just how far they will go to ensure that we all have a good time. This was the last big party before Newport, and so hair was let down. The majority were second years, with the remainder split between Septembers and Januaries – the latter, for once, deciding to party rather than study, for their imminent finals.
All Dressed Up, and Nowhere To Go.
The theme of the Party was Austin Powers / 70s – and the queues in Oona’s -‘experienced clothing’ – on Mass Ave, and the Technicolor treats on display portrayed a zeal that most thought had been left behind at Crimson Greetings. A number of the men were either amortizing their Priscilla investment, or just getting a kick out of wearing women’s clothes. Hunt deserves a prize for overcoming the effects of alcohol, and staying upright in his 6 inch heels all evening.
Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?
Aman Kapadia (a.k.a. Imran) spent the entire evening giving me dirty looks. Considering this part of his normal Princeton hauteur, I thought nothing of it, but only when we were leaving did the penny drop. He yelled, `Oh my God it’s you!’, having been unable to recognize me all evening, because of the addition of a mullet and specs.
Nice one, Sparky.
The music, though not exactly cutting edge, was a medley of past and present, split between two floors. The vibrant atmosphere was enhanced by end-of-term excitement, Springtime hormonal overload, a free bar (though annoyingly, only one drink at a time), and the fact that you were held captive until 1am. This provides a blueprint for successful parties in the future – lock the doors, lubricate with alcohol, and spin those oldies. Yeah, Baby.