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Column: Singin' And Partyin' In The Rain

Heights Columnist

Published: Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Updated: Wednesday, January 9, 2013 19:01

Everyone wants to live in the Mods. I often find it difficult, however, to explain to someone outside the Boston College bubble why the Mods are so desirable. They will inevitably mention that tailgating is only technically allowed seven days a year. Then they point out the cramped closets and complete lack of lights in the bedrooms (I’m convinced whoever designed the Mods was a sadist). Now, whenever anyone asks me why I enjoy living in the Mods, I will regale them with the tale of last Friday night.

The night of Oct. 19 was uneventful at first. My roommates and I returned from separate parties shortly after 2 a.m., and settled into our typical weekend postgame activity: Super Smash Bros. As I ruthlessly defeated them, it suddenly began to pour outside. I paused the game to open the back door, and the fierce rainstorm became a soothing soundtrack to my increasingly one-sided victories. I felt relieved that I had not paid a small fortune for a Mod parking spot without monsoon insurance. After a short time one of my roommates encouraged us to throw on bathing suits and dash outside into the pouring rain. Normally it takes superhuman effort to even get me out of bed before noon, but at this moment I felt surprisingly energetic. I grabbed my stylish Vineyard Vines bathing suit and dashed outside to join my roommates.

We ran to the nearest large Mod backyard and discovered an impromptu party had begun. Guys in bathing suits and girls in wet t-shirts frolicked across the yard. Speakers blasted music from a window as people climbed up on the picnic tables to dance in the rain. Most importantly, several ingenious people had discovered that heavy rain combines with poor backyard drainage to create ideal slip and slide conditions. I immediately threw caution to the wind and slid headfirst across the rain-soaked backyard.

The next half hour was a blur of frenzied excitement. I danced in the rain with friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers. At one point, Christmas music floated across the backyard and, despite its two-months-premature entrance, felt just right. The one blemish on the night came when I jammed my hand on a drainage grate while sliding at full speed, ensuring that I would spend the rest of the weekend on the disabled list unable to play video games. After the obligatory performance of “Don’t Stop Believing,” my roommates and I trudged back to our Mod, composed several stereotypical “ZOMG Best Night Ever!” tweets, and drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

The next day, while watching the Patriots’ three hour interpretation of mediocrity, I reflected on what made the previous night so special. The first element that came to mind was spontaneity. The best gatherings are often not meticulously planned, but rather completely impulsive, like the celebration of catching Osama bin Laden two Mays ago. Additionally, the rain-soaked gathering had an oddly primordial feel. In the midst of sliding across the backyard, I caught a glimpse of fellow Mod residents snapping pictures from the safety of their kitchen. It reminded me of National Geographic reporters taking photos of primitive tribes doing a rain dance. This noble savage archetype seemed quite appealing in hindsight. I spend far too much of my time staring at a TV, laptop, or iPhone screen. Sometimes the simple pleasures are the most fulfilling.

I am currently writing this sentence in near-darkness, thanks to Sadistic Mod Designer’s decision to forgo any lights in the common room as well. Living in the Mods, however, has an appeal that goes beyond parties or tailgates. Gabelli and Voute residents can keep their luxurious townhouses, because I have the fond memory of partying in the rain.


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