Ole Miss spring parties are the pinnacle of the Greek Life experience. The absurdity of thousands of kids rallying for a night of ignorance is truly incredible, and this past weekend was no different. On Saturday, The Black Sheep evaluated the scene at Pi Kapp’s Johnny Yuma Weekend:
7:45 p.m.: Doors open in 15 minutes. Brothers and pre-gamers alike are scrambling to find their most offensive apparel. Jerseys are in abundance.
7:51 p.m.: The line to get in the house is slowly making its way down the sidewalk. Security starts to brace itself for the onslaught.
7:54 p.m.: Everyone in the house starts to fill various garbage cans with lukewarm Natty Light. Upwards of 100 cases are on hand, but a lack of ice raises questions from the masses.
7:58 p.m.: After arguing back and forth, one of the brothers steps up with a ride to Double Quick to get ice. This noble action will probably be forgotten come Sunday, but sometimes, heroes don’t always wear capes.
8:00 p.m.: The doors open. Scantily clad freshmen pour in and immediately head to the bar where an overwhelmed brother mixes Aristocrat and Walmart brand soda.
8:10 p.m.: The ice arrives at the house.
8:20 p.m.: The beer is finally cold, or at least no longer lukewarm. The backyard is slowly filling up, with an overflow of drunks coming over from Sigma Nu after a long day of boozing at Woodstock.
8:37 p.m.: “Bad and Boujee” comes on for the first time over the speakers, sending the overzealous crowd into a frenzy. The backyard is rapidly starting to feel like the outdoor section of The Levee.
9:01 p.m.: A debate ensues at the front door, as two guys who aren’t on the guest list insist they are rushees. A fraternity official comes out, quickly sizes up the two hooligans, and decides to give them the benefit of the doubt. Security takes the L, and promptly rejects the next 5 guys in line.
9:20 p.m.: The backyard is almost filled to the brim, and the inside of the house has so many spills that walking has become hazardous. A young man shotguns a beer while wearing a homemade “Fuck Safe Spaces” tank top, proving he is truly the frattiest motherfucker on the row.
9:40 p.m.: Word quickly spreads that Travis Porter is about to arrive. Fiending for some action, security promptly makes everyone leave for the backyard and clear the area for these B-list celebrities to walk through the house safely.
10:00 p.m.: The DJ takes the stage and things start to get weird. Cops line the fence looking for every excuse to end it early. “Those damn kids are keeping the Chancellor up again.”
10:20 p.m.: A brother walks around the crowd with a fire extinguisher filled with mixed drink. Efficient, bold strategy, a catalyst for a blackout.
10:43 p.m.: Travis Porter comes on in 17 minutes and things are starting to get blurry. I’m dangerously close to blacking out before the show.
10:56 p.m.: A crowd shotguns beers and drags me into the mix. I’m ruined.
11:00 p.m.: Travis Porter takes the stage, and that’s the last thing I remember. ‘Twas a belligerent evening.
Like booze before noon? So do these guys…