Round-Up Round-up

Ah come on, you knew I was going to do that play on words with Round-up. What did you expect? I am not better than that. That is all I have. All I am is a few puns and some hastily srcibbled paragraphs. Stop reading my blog. It is amateur. I hire a five year-old to write it.

But wait, did you even consider that Roud-Up Round-up was a triple entendre? No? I did not think so. Does this change how you think of me? Are you still reading?

Let me explain.

Round-Up is the annual debaucherous celebration that fraternities and sororities use to throw the biggest parties of the year. The hope is that high-school students will illegally attend Round-Up and be attracted to a particular frat or sorority. Then, in the fall, that student will rush whatever Greek group appealed to him/her. The rest of UT uses Round-Up as an excuse to wear neon sorority tees, go to the biggest parties of the year, and revel in the weekend-long absurdity.

Round-up means wrap-up or summary.

The Round Up was a particularly intense two-day period of rounding up Jews in Paris and sending them to concentration camps. July 16-18, 1943, Nazis and French gendarmes rounded-up 13,000 non-French Jews and sent them to the French equivalent of the Superdome. They were kept there for five days with inadequate food and sanitation necessities, and then transported to Drancy internment camp. From there they were periodically shipped off to Auschwitz.  Just about everyone died. Several thousand children were also killed, because the French collaborationists did not want to have to provide federal care for the orphans of deceased parents.

“Woah, Mark,” I bet you’re saying, “that was depressing. Why would you even think about The Round Up while you are giving a round-up of Round-Up?

The irony is that our professors decided to teach us about The Round Up (La Rafle) the week that preceded Round-Up weekend, about which I am now giving you the Round-up.

Boom.

I love Round-Up, but I cannot really explain why. Ask my friends and they’ll tell you that I love it, but they won’t know why either. It is inexplicable, but for the second year in a row, I had an amazing weekend. I worked really hard during the week in order to be worry-free for Friday and Saturday night, and that added to my pleasure. Mostly though, the fun comes from being with my friends on an adventure.

Friday night Mike and I went to Sammie, the Jewish frat in which Michael and I have a lot of friends. Also, a lot of other people were there for the performer. See at Round-Up, most frats hire a rapper or band to play on one night. On Friday at Sammie, T-Pain was hired. That’s right, T-Pain.

Funny story, though, T-Pain cancelled the day of the concert. We found out on the way to the party, and emotions were mixed. I was ecstatic. We each received a refund for the tickets we purchased, another rapper just played a full-length show instead of opening, and I got into a fun party. I am not a massive T-Pain fan, and so I was not distraught that he cancelled. Michael, on the other hoof, was inconsolable. He is a big fan of T-Pain and a lot of luster dissipated from the party when he cancelled.

We arrived and saw the performance by the opener, which was not great. We did, however, see almost all of friends in the frat, as well as a bunch of our other friends. We danced and talked most of the evening, but it was certainly not raucous. Michael had crew the next morning at six in the morning, so we headed back around ten-thirty. I was satisfied, but certainly not elated. If the following night was the same caliber, then I would have been disappointed in Round-Up.

The following morning most of my friends went to get free tacos, because many sororities sell food to give the proceeds to philanthropies; but as is the case with many Round-Up events, if you are wearing the t-shirt or tank of the sorority sponsoring the event, then you get free food. They get publicity for their Greek organization and you get food, so everyone is happy.

I did not go because I had homework to do, so I labored in the library (my second home this semester) until mid-afternoon. After that I found out that Michael did not want to go out to find another party that night. Miraculously, Sean, Zach, and Jerry all said they wanted to go out, and so I had a crew with which to roll.

First we hit up the Sammie Adams concert at Kappa Sig, but we arrived right as he was finishing. Unfortunate as it may seem, the timing was perfect. We did not have to pay to get into the party because the show was over, and we knew some guys in the frat. They gave me some wristbands that were instrumental to us getting into a party later that night. As it was early, around seven in the evening, we went back to Dobie to grab some food.

We left from Dobie intending to get into a party with our wristbands to see Young Joc. Like most Round-Up parties, this one was packed and they let almost no one into the frat house. We waited outside among an enormous crowd of drunk, neon-clad collegiate students. We decided to ditch and try and get into another party. We knew our chances for this second party were very slim, so we met up with some of our friends in the frat to see if we could get in with them.

We met them at a restaurant in West Campus called Quattro’s, where I met some very friendly women. They asked for my number and then group-texted me all night which was hilarious. We set off towards the second party, but stumbled upon a stumbling drunk girl. Sean’s raison d’etre in life is helping drunk girls. We used moral obligation to coerce us into walking her to safety. We went on an adventure to connect her to a friend she knew in the area, and on the way we ran into several more of our friends.

After we dropped her off, we arrived to wait outside the next party. Again–a massive crowd awaited us. The frat was hosting Baby Bash I think, and no one was let in. The cops showed up and moved everyone off the street, and I got to hear a tazer for the first time. Let me tell you, the whole “don’t taze me, bro” thing is funny until you have heard a tazer. The crackle noise they make scared the bejeezes out of me. We left that party and headed for another.

At that point, we were running out of options but still having a fantastic time on our adventure. I suggested we go to Sammie again, who this night was not having a rapper, but was having their “chill” party, with just a DJ and other stuff. I got in easily because I had my wristband from the previous night that I had paid for (and then been reimbursed!), so I got into two parties for free. I asked a friend inside to help get Sean in, and then another friend of mine let Zach into the party. Jerry had jumped ship a few parties back.

When we arrived in the party we ran into our good friend Aaron Schulze, and the fearsome foursome was born. We mingled with our friends outside for quite awhile, but then went inside to dance.

We tore it up.

We left around one-thirty completely drenched in sweat (I was, at least) to go to our traditional, late-night Kerbey Lane post-Round-Up. Michael met us there, as well as some girls that wanted to meet up with us. The eight of us arrived at Kerbey and got in around two-thirty, and left about an hour later. The fearsome now-fivesome got back and everyone just crashed. The party was so much fun and it was totally free for all of us. Kerbey Lane went off perfectly, and the entire night was the perfect mix of adventuring for a party and then getting into a really good one and tearing it up. So much fun.

The next day, everyone was sore and tired from the night before, but Round-Up was a complete success. I went back to the library to do more slave-labor and we all went about getting back to school-duties. For the freshmen in our group, Round-Up was phenomenal. For the veterans, it was even better the second time around.

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Round-Up Round-up

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