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The Penn Bookstore was "flash mobbed" Friday as several hundred people showed up wearing sunglasses and seeking "Aaron Beige." [Mary Kinosian/The Daily Pennsylvanian]

At precisely 5:33 p.m. on Friday, hundreds of people dressed in hats and sunglasses simultaneously descended on the Penn Bookstore and on a downtown Borders bookstore.

The strangers who gathered were part of a so-called "flash mob" -- a recently emerging global phenomenon in which individuals come together at predetermined locations to engage in some type of scripted action, and then disperse.

In this case, each performer followed a carefully planned script. After two minutes of purposefully suspicious wandering throughout the store, at 5:35, the mob at each location broke into loud cheers and screamed for 30 seconds, with participants chanting the name "Erin Beige" or "Aaron Beige."

Then swiftly, 30 seconds later, the group erupted in a massive orgy of hugs, with complete strangers even embracing bookstore employees.

The boisterous throng then reverted, as if on cue, to cheers and screams uttering the names "Erin" and "Aaron." Then, less than 10 minutes after the event began, the crowd suddenly dispersed from the store, leaving shoppers and store employees in shock and bewilderment.

"It was probably one of the weirdest events that I've ever seen," said Joyce, a greeter at the Penn Bookstore, who did not want her last name published. "If I could find out who done it, I would kick their rear ends. I didn't like it at all."

"It's a great way to shake things up," said Drexel University senior Matt Garfield, who participated in the on-campus mob. "It's an interesting form of performance art."

While this flash mob was the first to be held in Philadelphia, the new trend has been witnessed across the globe in many cities -- such as New York, London and even Rome -- and has sparked interest among those yearning for some form of silly social anarchy.

In each case, using a mass e-mail system, anonymous organizers of the summer's most unique trend informed potential participants of the exact meeting times and the actions to be taken, even advising that watches be synchronized to the time listed on the federal government's Web site.

According to the e-mail distributed to participants in the recent Philadelphia mobs, "A flash mob is meant to appear out of nowhere, surprise/shock people and then disappear as quickly as it formed.... The mob is meant to be a fun event. Leave the locations as you found them. Don't litter, steal, touch books or in any other way change the place to which you came."

Advertisements for the flash mob also ran in the Philadelphia Metro.

While the flash mob is loud and raucous, it is seemingly well-organized, calm and innocuous. It appears that the purpose is not to harm or destroy anything, but simply to make a scene while having a good time.

Despite this, wherever they have occurred, flash mobs have captured attention, as well as caused confusion.

Employees at the Penn Bookstore said that the event came without warning, but that many present took it lightheartedly.

"It was exciting and curious," said Kay Evans, a cashier supervisor at the Penn Bookstore. "They came in, made their noise, then departed. It was all in good fun."

At the Borders bookstore on Market and Broad streets, an excess of a hundred people materialized to participate in the flash mob.

"I thought it would be an interesting thing to watch," Communications Professor Carolyn Marvin said. According to Marvin, the execution of the flash mob shows "the will and the daring of people to assemble anonymously, engage in a whimsical act and see what happens."

For others, the choice to be part of the flash mob was less symbolic. Melanie Kaspar, a civil engineer in Philadelphia who was a member of the flash mob at Borders, defined the phenomenon as "random acts of random chaos." She added that the event was "a great way for single people to meet."

"The randomness, I love it," said Bridget Hill, a 2002 Penn alumna.

When asked why they had participated, others gave the same seemingly scripted answer: "We do it for the love of Erin," or Aaron.

As the group quickly dispersed, three men in a group claiming that their names were Aaron appeared satisfied with the outcome of the event.

"There's a little Aaron in all of us," one of them said.

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