I pen this letter to you, Editor, with a mixture of excitement and concern. The Senior Week emails keep rolling in for event after event. Tonight’s the night, though: The 100 Days Dance. It has recently come to my attention that I, a humble Boston College senior, must begin a journey of a lifetime come nightfall. I unwittingly have signed myself up to dance for 100 days.
How did I find myself in this predicament? Well, all my friends seemed so enthusiastic about this dance. We jumped through hoops, endured obstacles, woke up at the asscrack of dawn, and bent over backward to obtain tickets. I thought surely, this must be quite the social outing and I’d be a fool to pass it by. All these Class of 2024-ers seem thrilled to get gussied up and order their 35-dollar Ubers to the finest nightclub Boston has to offer. I just don’t get it.
How is nobody worried? I haven’t heard of anyone working on their stamina or their moves. I’ve been in the gym for weeks trying to up my endurance. What’s more, all my roommates are even wearing heels. Heels!? For 100 days? How are they going to last? I suggested they try on my Sketcher Elite 2.0 Walkers, but nobody’s listening to me. Every time I ask if they’re worried about dancing for 100 days, my friends just chuckle. This is serious. I don’t understand how not a single person I know has prepared.
We can only bring a security-acceptable bag but I, for one, have packed energy gels, freeze-dried meat sticks, and a hell of a lot of cocaine. 100 days is a long time to be awake AND to be dancing the whole time. We’re in for a wild ride.