Dear Princeton Review subscribers,

One of the expectations of attending Tulane is partying. Partying is great. Throw a little vat in ya, and have a magical night you won’t remember. Key word here is “night.” When parties stretch into the mid-day and get a stupid new name, the line is crossed.

Darties, or “day parties” (bet the creator spent a long time on that name) are a plague. In the night you have the darkness to hide your trashiness. You can slip into the dark and just lose yourself. During the day, you’re exposed. Everyone is seeing your less-than-stellar beach body. Packed into some yard, sweating your ass off, drinking something more questionable than a pitcher found outside The Boot.

Even if you are able to secure a non-sketchy drink, you have about an 80 percent chance of spilling half of it. Suddenly you’re covered in a mix of booze, sweat that’s not necessarily your own and God knows what else. Whatever the theme is turns into a mess of random objects and dirty garments. Since it’s a bunch of drunk college students blaring music at 3 in the afternoon, it’s inevitable that the cops will come and send everyone home.

Even worse, after that harrowing brush with death, you’re expected to rally and go to a party later that same night. If you start feeling a little tired during a regular party, you can just slink away under the cover of night and get a good night’s sleep. That’s not an option during a darty. Ever try to sleep while buzzed as the sun is shining directly into your eyes? Not fun.

Nothing is worse than feeling hungover at 5 p.m. and being expected to get drunk again at a different party. Or worst case, the night is cancelled because you went a bit too hard at a darty.

Parties are a lot of fun, especially Tulane parties, but when these parties creep into the hours of precious sunlight where everyone can see the steaming pile of garbage I am, that’s where the line needs to be drawn. Go ham at night, find yourself in The Boot not really knowing what’s going on, hit a stranger’s Juul, have fun, but just save it for the nighttime. Because if you graduate college and keep these darty behaviors, it’s not having fun, it’s called being an alcoholic.

Tulane, I love you, but keep your degeneracy for the night.

Sincerely,

Student passed out in a sandbox