The Night In Its Togality

The ancient Greek gods could not be more proud of our Richmond seniors-- last Thursday, we somehow managed to pull off an exact reenactment of a toga party in 1450 B.C. I didn't retain much from high school history, but I'm pretty sure I remember that with every historic Greek affair came a gluten-free beer truck, Papa John's pizza and exactly four Porta Potties.

Now I do remember a lot about the basics of mathematics and, if I'm not mistaken, 800-something seniors plus a beer truck cannot possibly equal out to four toilets. But I won't argue, because when in the Greek Theatre, do as the Romans do, I guess.

There are two types of toga-goers out there: Those who put together their costumes an hour before the pre-game and those who give themselves stomach ulcers over whether they should go "classy toga" or "barely-there toga." In an attempt to see what the hype over toga designing was all about, I took myself to the source of the madness: Jo-Ann Fabrics.

Visiting that fabric store was more frightening than the time I accidentally lit my bangs on fire when I was five. Sometime during the 62 seconds it took me to decide between two fabrics -- the first white one I came across and a My Pretty Little Pony number -- all of God's children decided to merge into the checkout line.

For those of you who have never checked out at a fabric store, it's exhausting. To sum it all up: after a 30-minute wait, I was checked out by a middle-aged lady named Deborah who couldn't scan my fabric's barcode, then proceeded to tell me I needed a "ton" more fabric if I wanted to cover my body. Thanks Deborah, but if I wanted my measurements taken, I would have gone to Victoria's Secret.

The actual toga party was phenomenal and filled with more people watching gems than I'd know what to do with in a lifetime. Where would I even begin?

We could start with the male who went into a Porta Potty fully clothed and came out wearing nothing but compressor shorts. Or the female who decided that public urination was a good idea and then responded to that act with, "THIS IS SPARTA!"

How about the woman that face-planted onto the concrete steps of the Greek Theatre in an attempt to get down to the dance floor? Oh and to the 90-pound female who unsuccessfully tried to stuff nine slices of cheese pizza into her mouth: I fully support your decision to eat gross amounts of food, but slow your roll. Papa John's will still be here tomorrow.

Also in attendance at the senior social was a deejay who successfully got 84% of the senior class jumping around like spastic 5-year-olds after a Halloween overdose, and enough Richmond cops to scare Chuck Norris.

All in all, being with the senior class made for an evening of memories--some happy, some incredibly humiliating and illegal, but all unforgettable.

The four things I took away from the social were: 1) Two safety pins are not toga-sufficient. 2) When someone you know gets down on his or her knee at 8:30 p.m. and chugs a bottle of wine, know that you will be playing the role of Mom for the rest of the evening. 3) If anyone is ever in dire need of $1 bills, they grow out of the shrubs at the Greek Theatre the morning after a social. And lastly 4) Our class has really mastered the definition of party. Congratulations, guys...Caesar would be proud.

Contact staff writer Markie Martin at markie.martin@richmond.edu