Harvard-Yale is always a very counterproductive weekend for the poverexic one. I always think I’m going to score so much free food at the tailgates and get super excited over the thought of crashing class of 1971 tailgates with steak and oysters galore, and then I never do because I get too blackout and feel like hurling the entire time and can’t stomach anything for the life of me.
The festivities commenced on Friday night when roommates L, M, K and I got smashed at home on really strong bloody marys, wine, beer and shots of hot sauce and vodka (our version of the bloody abortion) before heading out to Superdive to run into some faces that were good to see and others that were awkward to see. At least I didn’t pay for any of my drinks on Friday, but I knew I was in trouble when I came home that night to immediately puke up all my bloody marys. I had to wake up the next morning to make an 8am party bus, and I knew I was fucked.
I felt like death when I woke up at 7:30am the next morning and puked another three times right as I was heading out the door. The hurling did make me feel slightly better though, at least okay enough to stomach the $4.50 bottle of champagne that I had bought for myself in the spirit of keeping up our HY tradition. The party bus was fun but the worst part was that finishing the champagne bottle over a game of 13 completely destroyed me and I didn’t even touch any of the freeflowing food that was available on the bus, and out of all the tailgate food that was in my face all day, I only ate one tiny hamburger and one hot dog, didn’t drink anything the rest of the day, and blacked out at 2:30pm. GO CRIMSON.
Poverexic in NYC 