As first term nears its end and a handful of attentive students spend their weekends working on final papers or preparing for final exams, the overwhelming majority of Lawrentians used this past weekend to once again prove to themselves that they really know how to “Par-tay.” Not that the partying abilities of the students at this fine institution were ever questioned, but nevertheless Lawrentians felt it was necessary to let it all hang out this past weekend with the formidable one-two punch of the Lawrence International Formal and Beta Beach Bash. For those who dined at Downer Commons last week it was hard not to notice the fine students hawking tickets for L.I. Formal. Haggling, bartering, and finally resorting to well-planned kidnappings and other antiquated negotiation methods, the L.I. students wanted the provincial Lawrentian’s first formal experience to really capture the essence of the international atmosphere right from the start. As one freshman I later interviewed commented, “I’m glad they only punched me in the jaw thrice. My roommate is impotent now. But I wouldn’t trade this night for anything. Party on dude!” Those surviving the initial ticket purchase had much to look foreword to: a new “hipper” venue, catered food (thankfully deep-fried), and a more spacious dance hall with a variety of poles and other architectural embellishments ready to complement one’s freaky make-out needs. Bright yellow school buses transported students to and from the location at crisp 15 minute intervals, eliminating the need to drive and completely removing all worries one may have concerning the appropriate alcohol intake. Even the restrooms were in immaculate condition, with working toilets, real hand soap and no loitering hobos. The night progressed with relatively few glitches. Rowdiness was kept at a minimum with Dean Truesdell hosting a sleepover for Lawrence University’s “problem children.” Random hook-ups slowly began to preoccupy the majority of the students around 1:30 in the morning, that crucial time when everything begins to look a bit fuzzy-even that chick who looks like your sister. Final analysis: totally awesome! As the same freshman I mentioned above later told me, “I just made out with a chick who looks just like my sister!” Sadly, he was very, very sober. For many, L.I. Formal was just the appetizer. The main course: Beta Beach Bash. What do you get when you take a little piece of Cancun, place it in a dank fraternity basement, and invite as many people as you can to show up in bathing suits (or underwear, for the more emotionally satisfied)? I actually have no idea. But I’m pretty sure it looks a lot like the stuff they do in Rio during Mardi Gras and at Beansnappers on Wednesday nights. Keeping in theme with the previous night’s staple activity (hook-ups at random), Beta Beach Bash simply allowed people to finish what they’d started-or for some, to start all over again. With the sand piled high and the music “bumping”-for those in Kohler, think “Kenny G” -love and sweat hung thick in the air. As that same freshman I interviewed twice for this article already-lucky bastard -put it: “Mister, can you hook me up with a blond hottie?” I smiled and nodded dutifully. Gripping this young buck’s shoulder I thrust him into a throbbing mass of female soccer players. As I walked away I cast a lingering glance back towards the pulsing mass. That young man was smiling, smiling in the way a young man sandwiched between two writhing athletic girls clad in nothing more than butt-floss and pink-pasties should. I felt warm all over, almost fatherly, though I’d never do that with my son. Final analysis: touching and humbling. Enough to make a grown man cry.