Primal Scream

Of Harvard’s many traditions, Primal Scream is the best. It’s naked girls, naked guys, and the men’s cross country team.

So as an aid to your efforts tonight (midnight, Old Yard), I’m going to present some ground rules. Try to remember them no matter how inebriated you are later.

Attire: For girls, trench-coats. For guys, underwear. Doff once in the Yard. Also, shoes. You don’t know what the Occupy people have fertilized that lawn with.

Positioning: The issue with being at the front of the pack is that you’re more likely to be photographed. The issue with being at the back of the pack is that you’re more likely to be photographed. The issue with being in the middle is all the strange penises pressing up against various parts of your body. But that won’t get you kicked out of your New York congressional seat, so stick to the middle.

Preparation: Don’t wax; it’s trying way too hard. After all, the point of primal scream is to let it all hang out in its just-ate-my-entire-chocolate-Advent-calendar glory. Looking like Mario Lopez is plain douchey.

Support: Have your roommates hold your clothes. Disparage them relentlessly for refusing to join you.

Prelude: The most awkward part of the fifteen minutes is waiting for it to start. Everyone stands in a giant huddle, shivering and not knowing who to talk to. You can avoid this by going with a bunch of girlfriends (if you’re a girl), arriving barely in the nick of time (if you’re insecure), or alternatively embracing the ironic homo-eroticism full on. Quintessential Harvard.

Action: Primal Scream is like riding a bicycle, you avert disaster only when you’re moving forward. Once you start running, keep running (hopefully you’ve been doing your cardio). If you have a problem with naked bodies, look at the ground (but not only at the ground). If you don’t have a problem with naked bodies, feel free to check people out. This is the perfect time to apply your touch-tease flirting techniques (so you can tell people you met your girlfriend at Primal Scream).

Aftermath: Feel deliriously cool. Remember how screwed you are for Babylon tomorrow.

I’ll see you out there.