1. Drunk call your high-school ex
You haven’t spoken in four years but it's 2 a.m. on Trin 3 and that phone number is looking pretty inviting. Nostalgia and vodka don’t mix well, and within minutes you’re calling him up. Over the dulcet tones of Katy Perry, holding the phone to your ear as if it were a life raft, you ask him how his mom is, what he’s doing post-grad and if he ever loved you.
2. 4th Year Fifth
Every year, overzealous fourth years engage in the “4th Year Fifth” on the day of the last home football game. Finish a fifth before the conclusion of the football game and try your very best not to get arrested in the aftermath. Good times, good luck.
3. Crying on the steps of the Rotunda
Honestly, it’s very therapeutic. Nothing makes the University feel like your school more than shedding tears on the steps of this world famous tourist trap. Much like a dog marking his territory through urination, I mark this university as mine through the emotional rollercoaster that is crying on the steps of the Rotunda.
4. The indescribable shame of accidentally flirting with a first year
He’s cute. He’s funny. He’s got his arm around your waist. You’re starting to think you might go home with this guy. “Where’s home?” you ask. “Gibbons.” he says. Your stomach drops as it dawns on you that this is not a joke. You recoil in fear and realize that shame is more sobering than the White Spot. Grab your friends, leave immediately, lock yourself in your room, wrap yourself in blankets and hibernate until spring.
5. Thanksgiving dinner
Don’t have a job lined up? Amazing. Not going to graduate school? Perfect. Graduating with a degree in the humanities? Even better. This is when all of your relatives get to weigh in on your choices with the added benefit of a pending cap and gown ceremony. Are you dating anyone? Do you still go to church? What do you want to do with your life? The Thanksgiving Dinner the year of graduation is like family therapy and a career center appointment all wrapped into one.
6. Running into your first-year hallmate and struggling to remember their name
“Hey … you!” you shout across the Lawn. Redefine awkward at this fun fourth-year event where you realize just how much time has passed and just how little you’ve accomplished in it, all while staring blankly at a familiar face and an expectant smile, wracking your brain for the name of that kid you shared a bathroom with four years ago.
7. Turning down an invite to bars because you’d rather stay in and watch a movie
There are three ways to know you are truly an adult. One — You have a favorite burner on the stove. Two — someone says 401k and you don’t immediately check out of the conversation. Three — You turn down an invitation to bars because you’d rather stay in and watch a movie. Congrats grandpa, you’re officially old.
8. Breaking up with your roommates
You’ve come to rely on these people. Trust these people. Love these people. Now you must leave them. Don’t kid yourself. This is a breakup. It comes with all the emotional weight of a final goodbye, and none of the benefits. You can’t be mad at anyone. You can’t lay in bed eating ice cream and watching Gilmore Girls for a week and a half. You can’t even drunk call them — see point number one. This is the worst sort of breakup — the platonic one.
9. Check off all the checklists you can possibly check
As a fourth year, you will be given so many checklists you will simply be drowning in boxes to check. You’ll get checklists from The Cavalier Daily, Fourth Year Trustees, The Yellow Journal, your parents, random alums, a friend of yours who is taking 12 credits and has way too much time on their hands, your least favorite CIO, the almighty gods of the Pinterest algorithm, and last but not least, this checklist. Many of the checklists will cite the other checklists as one of the boxes you need to check. Enter — the checklist panopticon. Better get to checking.
10. Streaking the Lawn one last time
GOOD NIGHT MR. JEFFERSON, one last time. But please, for the love of God, conduct your final streak before graduation itself.
Read More
Dear Power Outlet, My Dearest Darling Love
By Maggie McHaty | YesterdayMy dearest darling love, the concussion to my midnight snowball fights on the Lawn, the 2023 sewage flood to my Brown Residential College, I know I should not have come back.
University squirrels unionize
By Claudia Hunn | April 11, 2024This week, an unlikely group discovered their own collective power as workers by unionizing — a community of University squirrels now known as the Squirrel Workers’ Guild, or SWG.
Launching My Career as a Background Extra at U.Va.
By Sneha Uppal | April 2, 2024You may be wondering why I always played an almost invisible background character. But, you see, it turns out I had been training for a role I had set my eyes on for my whole life.
