OK, let’s yank those eyes away from the cobwebs that have accumulated in your wallet (spiders need homes, too!) and focus on the lighter things in life. I say that to give you the allusion that I stop to get serious sometimes. So on to the third way I knew I wasn’t in small town America anymore — the sites, traditions and events that are more unbelievable than Kim Kardashian’s marriage.
Let’s start with Homecoming.
You don’t get to see a float dedicated to game show appreciation in your hometown, do you? You’re welcome, Alex Trebek, you’re welcome.
How could we forget the famous and much-anticipated Rocky Horror Picture Show, known for its racy dialogue and scantily clad cast with several chorus members entertaining those of us waiting in line dressed in nothing but fishnets and bedazzled lingerie? Because being fully clothed, my friend, is for mannequins and squares.
While they paraded down the public sidewalk, I witnessed an elderly couple walking by. The only thing heard from the woman: “Well, I never!”
The only thing heard from the old man? Possibly the increasingly rapid beep of his heart monitor. Quick, think of something else —Bridge Club! Medicare!
As much as the topic may get beaten more than a Cleveland sports franchise, I can’t avoid Halloween. I heard all the stories, but I came a long way from the politically correct “fall festival” we had in our school district to the chaotic, heart-stopping phenomenon of Halloween in Athens.
“Dear, is that a male nun fist pumping with Harry Potter, or am I just having bad dreams again?”
OU is passionate about the creativity and spunk surrounding a holiday that a lot of the world just shrugs off.
Once it gets warmer, people get friendlier. Oh, and more gutsy. There is a very commendable guy on campus that walks around barefoot at all times, given that it’s warm enough to avoid frostbite.
Wait, you still wear shoes? Get out of the nineties, man. This is the future.
I didn’t get the chance to go to 8Fest, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that outside of OU, you won’t often see a mass exodus of people walking down the highway wearing a cape a la beach towel, dragging mud-soaked coolers in their return from the anticipated musical festival held every spring.
Or even people who looked like they spent spring break partying with pigs. No, I’m not being offensive -- I mean real, live pigs. It took my freshman roommate waltzing into our dorm room with her body, clothes, purse, camera and cell phone completely drenched in mud for me to remember: Oh yeah, I’m in Athens. Fifteen showers later and BAM! Oh wait, she still has mud in her hair.
Jackie Runion is a sophomore studying journalism and a columnist for The Post. What are some traditions she didn’t mention? Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.