As a second semester freshmen, Virginia Tech student Sean K. decided it was time to find his niche in the Blacksburg community. He wanted to expand his horizons past playing video games in his dorm room and spending his Saturday nights at the library (all the time wondering why it was so empty).
Walking to class one day, his eyes were suddenly diverted to an A-frame sign located in front of Squires that read “Join Pi Sigma Pi, Join a Brotherhood.” Could I have I finally found my place? Thought Sean elatedly. He was sure he had… mostly because he believed that this was a sign for the math club, not one of the “top-tier” fraternities here at Tech.
A week passed and Pi Sigma Pi was scheduled to hold their first event: a cookout at the house. Sean, thinking they’d be spending equal time eating and working on integral equations, brought his own gluten free buns, TI-89 calculator, and book on mathematical theory.
Arriving at the Oak Lane house promptly fifteen minutes early to the start time of the event, Sean was dressed to impress in a brand new pair of cargo shorts, gray New Balance tennis shoes, and a light blue American Eagle polo. As other people started to show up, he noticed that no one else brought books or calculators, but instead were carrying in large cases of beer from their trucks. Sean was confused, “These people aren’t 21,” he muttered under his breath with a sense of anguished misunderstanding.
In search of solace, Sean located a boy wearing a shirt with the obviously mathematical letters of Pi Sigma Pi on his shirt and introduced himself. “Sup,” the boy responded and handed him a warm solo cup of beer (something his mother explicitly forbade him to drink). Another member wearing the same shirt came up to them and whispered audibly to the first member, “Yo, is he cool?” and “What do you think his chill to pull ratio is?”
Desperately lost and confused by their strange and foreign vernacular, Sean finally asked when they would start working on equations and if there was a GPA maximum, seeing as he has a 4.0. The members looked at each other and laughed. “Bro, do you even frat?” the second member asked. Sean, bewildered by his question, immediately began to sweat.
Looking around, he noticed that everyone was wearing the same sort of uniform with the same letters on them. Suddenly, he knew where he was. He realized that this was a gang meeting. The strange words the members used, the matching clothes, the illicit activities; it all added up. Sean panicked. He grabbed his allergen-free hamburger buns and calculator and ran away as fast as he could. To recuperate, Sean has spent the last week and a half in the library, afraid to see what other madness lies outside the walls of his safe haven, still hopelessly confused as to why a gang would choose such a deceptively mathematical name for their group.