Christina Domenico | Four chances to Fling

I, like many of my peers who better be doing the same thing right now, am flinging.

You could ask me why, and I'd tell you, but I hope it's fairly obvious.

We get only two official days a year when all our collegiate responsibilities are forgotten - just as long as we don't forget which freshman we employed to hide that bottle of booze before bag checks started.

Eight short days over four years is simply not enough time to fling appropriately, so we make sure to extend it to earlier in the week. When Fling actually does arrive, our inhibitions fall away and the alcohol flows freely. Between music, food, inflatable games and so much more, Fling epitomizes the excitement brought on by end of term for us undergrads.

That excitement can't last forever, sadly. Tragedy strikes shortly after the fourth Fling - graduation. And the flinging is no more, replaced by - dare I say it - employment, salaries and company get-togethers.

There's no equivalent event in post-Penn life that can even compare to what Fling means for us.

But hey, if you're wishing that you could ride on an inflatable bull with a belly full of Banker's Club like the rest of us, no one said you couldn't try. Realize, though, that your efforts to find some sort of replacement will likely go unappreciated in the "real world."

That is where we go after college, right?

I doubt your boss would appreciate you taking over the employee kitchen to fry some Oreos as a mid-morning snack to complement that spiked Diet Coke you've been nursing since 10 a.m. To any outsider - or anyone who tends to be conscious of what they put in their stomach - the concept of dousing a cookie in pancake batter and throwing it into a deep fryer will probably invoke a gag reflex.

Add in the fact that the next step would be to gather a group of intoxicated friends and ambush the moon bounce, and you'd look downright insane.

To the outside world, that is. The beauty of Fling is that the possibilities are as endless as the line for free cheesesteaks at the College Green Carnival.

For 48 hours, we get to be absolutely crazy, so when the alcohol's coaxing you to crowd-surf during Mask and Wig's finale this Saturday, you're not alone.

You only get four chances to do that. (I'm not counting you cheaters who came during Previews). Embrace it before reality sets in and you're working 90-hour weeks.

What really exemplifies how ludicrous Fling can be is the jungle juice - you know, the one thing parents always tell you to avoid. Scooped from a trash can and patently deadly, no house party this weekend will go without it.

You're never going to find that in your office water cooler, probably because the rest of the world has a better grasp on sensibility than your average flinger.

This is our time to show just how senseless we can be before the future sets in.

If you're a student reading this in hard copy, please put the paper down and get flinging.

And if you're already sitting in that hazy expanse we flingers dread, well, you had your time. You could always seek out a McDonald's with a playpen if you're longing to bounce along in the Quad. Just don't breathe too heavily, or the scent of alcohol may land you in a host of troubles.

Or introduce the office to jungle juice. I bet your co-workers would appreciate that.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's an inflatable obstacle course with your - sorry, my name on it.

Christina Domenico is a College junior from North Wildwood, N.J. Her e-mail is domenico@dailypennsylvanian.com. The Undersized Undergrad appears on Fridays.

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