BC Separation Anxiety is a blog in which I lament all things BC related that I will miss this summer. The whining is rampant.
I’ve been saving this one up for awhile now. But, with less than a week until I move in to my cozy off-campus house, it’s time for my Mod Separation Anxiety to come out of hiding.
Dear St. Ignatius, do I love the Mods. They need a paint job and a bleach/Febreeze bath, but that grunge just pulls at my heartstrings. Where else can you pay 50Gs a year to live in public housing conditions? Nowhere! That’s our birthright as Eagles. Peeling paint and sub-par plumbing.
People have varying opinions on the Mods. Pretty much everyone shows up freshman year thinking of the Mods as the Holy Land of parties, where the beer flows and the good times rage. It’s true to an extent, depending on which Mod you frequent. Other people decide that they’re going to go counter-culture and scoff at the hoards of freshman prematurely roaming the Mod lot at 9:30 p.m. Both sides of the argument make valid points, but personally I love the Mods.
Coming from a family where approximately 87.3% of us have gone to BC, I have a deep appreciation of the tradition behind those cesspools that we lovingly pack into on weekend nights. My step-mom lived in 34a, my aunt lived in 26b and my uncle bitterly moved off campus after getting stuck in Edmonds for his senior year. The Mods are gross, but they’ve been gross for a really long time. Every BC graduate since 1976 has been able to appreciate the beauty buried deep within a disgusting Mod.
Quick history lesson (actually this is family lore and any disagreements can be directed towards my grandfather): The Mods weren’t even new in 1976. BC purchased them as USED temporary housing from the University of Connecticut, where they had previously been used as housing for married students. Just think about that for a second. Our beloved Mods are older than dirt in temporary housing years (which I imagine would work a lot like dog years). They’re downright elderly. We should all treat them with the respect that their age deserves.
But we won’t! We shall not respect the Mods! We will put our heads through their walls and stand on their picnic tables! We will glitter bomb them and pack more people into them than is humanly (or reasonably) possible! WE WILL PARTY!!
After that battle cry I’d really enjoy it if you listened to “Take Back the Night” by JT and replace every instance of the word “night” with “Mod.” Thank you, thank you very much.
Now you incoming freshmen, don’t worry. Your time will come. You may not get into the Mods your first weekend. (But then again you might. Who knows!) The best advice I can give you is to actually become FRIENDS with the people whose Mod you crash. Then they might invite you back! Not that you’ll ever be able to find your way back to the same Mod or anything. The illogical layout of the Mods is campus legend. Don’t bother trying to make sense of it, you’ll only get confused and lost. But hey, there’s an App for that. No really. There’s an App for that.
Despite my humorous Mod battle cry there is an etiquette that needs to be observed when attempting a Mod crawl. Most importantly, don’t force yourself on a Mod. If the people at the door don’t want you to be there, why would YOU want to be there? Don’t be that guy who tries to break in the back door and don’t be that guy who gets belligerent with the “bouncers” at the door. Chances are those poor suckers got roped into being the dry contact for one of their roommate’s parties. Have pity on their souls.
Just remember that a Mod is first and foremost a home. Sure the occupants may absolutely TRASH their Mod, but that doesn’t mean you should too. Have some respect for the tradition behind the Mods. They’re elderly after all.
Images via Facebook.