“During fall quarter I just had to get acquainted with Northwestern and make friends who will come to the city with me,” Chad explained.  “Next quarter I’m going to go to the city for sure!  Well, maybe not winter quarter, actually, because it’ll be cold.  It gets really cold in Chicago, right?  But after that for sure.”

Chad said that by the end of freshman year she hopes to eat dinner in Chicago at least once a month, go to four concerts, a play, three museums, explore Boystown, get her nose pierced and sneak onto the roof of a skyscraper at midnight.

“I’ve had a lot of work in my engineering classes, but I think I can learn to manage them enough to make some trips down to the city.  I mean, I have to go; I wrote about how awesome it would be to be so close to Chicago in my admissions essay!”

As of yesterday Chad was heard saying that she was still under the impression that the L ride down to the Loop would take “30 minutes, tops.”

In related news, Medill sophomore Brad Jansen said Tuesday that he, too, swears he’ll get around to going to Chicago to have some fun sometime in the next two and a half years.

“Everyone on Facebook was talking about signing up for Dance Marathon, I thought I would give it a shot,” he said. “They mentioned something about thirty hours, and like, come on bro, I knew I could easily beat that time.”

MacMillan’s friends noticed that something was unusual about his preparation the night before the race when instead of fueling up on carbs and getting his gear ready he begged them to “teach him how to Dougie.” Other runners were similarly confused when Clarence began practicing the Macarena in the designated stretching area. One participant in line for water even overheard the freshman asking for a six-pack of Busch Light, saying, “Come on, guys don’t dance sober!”

Adler began the marathon by awkwardly moving his feet and bobbing his head, the go-to mating call of seventh-grade boys. He proceeded to do the jerk, Cotton-Eye Joe and kick-line for ten minutes. About a quarter-mile in, MacMillan casted an invisible fishing rod, attempting to reel in a bystanding girl on the sidewalk.

Eventually, the Northwestern student was stopped by a fellow runner, Chicago resident Brian Burbank. After the situation was explained, MacMillan blushed and walked away, ending his valiant effort.

“Suuuuuuuch a freshman,” Burbank remarked.  

“There are really only two things you need to know how to do on Dillo Day,” Mayfest co-chair Chase “Maystache” Jacksons explained to Flipside investigators. “Drink large quantities of alcohol and have the common sense to head towards music in the same direction as a shitload of people.” Eager managed to accomplish the first task so well that the second became difficult.

“I was just drinking whatever people were giving me, hopping fences, going from house party to house party. Thought I really built up my stamina from that ‘Defining Moments’ party last week. Guess not.”

Eager got separated from his friends after experiencing confusion as to where exactly Simpson Street ended. He decided to head toward the Lakefill to meet up with them, but by this point the freshman was seriously disoriented.

“I had no clue where I was, let alone which way to go. I just picked a direction and started walking, hoping I wouldn’t be late to my first Dillo Day.”

Skokie police officers found Eager in a park next to Old Orchard Mall “mostly fist pumping” in front of a swing set.

“Once I found an open patch of grass, I thought I was there. It wasn’t until my buzz wore off in the squad car that I realized something was wrong…mainly that my buzz was wearing off.”

One Skokie resident tried to aid the “clearly out of place, slightly abusive, and heavily pee-stained” NU student.

“He kept asking me where the pornographers were,” the resident informed The Flipside. “Also something about how ‘Bob’ had nothing on me. I don’t know any Bob.”

After the embarrassing rookie mistake, Eager plans to take preventative measures for next year.

“Dillo Day 2012 is going to be the best. I’m going to camp out on the Lakefill the night before. Just in case.”

“It’s not fair,” moaned freshman Nadia Horner, a student of Professor Levenstein. “just as I’m totally getting into the class and learning some new things, he tells us we have to perform our oral tomorrow in front of everyone.”

Other departments also have early examinations.  Those enrolled in Introduction to Christianity are required to present a report on European missionary positions to the department chair in two days. Students taking Genetics and Evolution must prove their knowledge of unzipping genes to a panel of elderly male teachers tomorrow.

However, many see the underlying problem not in premature examinations, but a general lack of respect for freshmen by university faculty.  This can cause inadequate preparation and poor technique instruction. “Professors just give us the shaft for the exams,” gasped Kam Sutra (WCAS 2014), “I wouldn’t mind them coming early if they touched on our needs.  They see a freshman student as merely another notch on their desks before they leave. They give the seniors all their attention.”

“Sometimes I feel like an object,” moaned Ben Dover (Medill 2014), “they just keep going and going without even looking at us, then they leave without talking to us and don’t even say good-bye.”

When asked what advice the University has for freshmen, Megan Elektra, an academic advisor, offered the following tips: “Go to office hours, where you can get one-on-one time.  Study more.  Study all night long.  Study until you scream.”

“Remember: the professor is the dominant player in the relationship.  Satisfy his or her needs, and he or she will satisfy yours.”

“I was just about to flush the toilet, when I thought, ‘Hey, that’s weird’,” Simpson said. “So I got a little closer, and sure enough, it didn’t smell bad, like, at all.”

Simpson’s roommate, Robert Talley, was caught by surprise.

“For the first couple weeks, he just seemed like your typical freshman douche, you know?” Talley said. “He was always talking about his father’s law practice and this girl who he almost fucked. I just thought he was full of it, but now I guess I have to get him credit – he is just naturally awesome.”

Although Simpson’s condition is rare, it is still sometimes seen in Americans, although it is most common among the French. Stanford gastroenterologist Stephen DuPont said that Simpson’s case is not isolated.

“For the most part, this is an incredibly over-diagnosed condition,” DuPont said. “For every 10,000,000 Americans who believe that their shit doesn’t stink, only about one can say that scientifically.”

DuPont even cited several specific examples of people who at first may have seemed like irritating blowhards, but actually were validated by their non-odorous feces.

“People like Sarah Palin, Martha Stewart and even Kevin Federline all seem like pompous windbags, but you really have to take a scientific look at their shit,” said Dupont. “And when you do, you realize that it actually smells kind of like cinnamon.”

Simpson reported that the discovery has provided his social life with a significant upgrade. “Dude, totally. At this point, I’m just rolling in it. I knew I’d end up being the Big Man on Campus, I just didn’t realize it would only take me three weeks.”

For Talley, Simpson’s roommate, the revelation has been difficult to accept. “I still keep having this overwhelming desire to call him a fucking douche and punch him in the nose. I keep reminding myself that his shit really doesn’t stink.”

Rumors started swirling over the summer that DiMarco could declare his major before setting foot in Evanston. Even more heads turned when DiMarco posted a topic in the Northwestern 2014 Facebook group: “yo guys any other philosophy majors in da house?!?!?!?” “I didn’t think he could do it,” said WCAS senior Joe DiMarco, Antonio’s brother, “after all, I’ve seen so many eager freshmen try and fail, jabbering on and on excitedly about their engineering career paths only to realize that their schedules will suck. My psych class last year was basically made up entirely of those guys.”

The insanity reached a fever pitch the first day of orientation, as throngs of interested onlookers congregated around the icebreaker for DiMarco’s PA group to hear his long-awaited answer to the question of “Name, Hometown, Major?” They were not disappointed.

DiMarco has said that he enjoys his newfound celebrity, but that being the only freshman who made up his mind also has its drawbacks. “I need to come up with a clever one-liner to use at parties,” he noted, “because I can’t do any of that snarky ‘I’m majoring in undecided!’ stuff.” DiMarco explained that although this particular hill will be hard to climb, he is not worried. “After all,” he said, “I am a philosophy major. It shouldn’t be that hard to come up with some jokes.”

Some freshmen, however, decided to turn the close-quarters situation into their advantage. Casually walking past the “Germ”any Disease Association, young freshmen like Jeff Lerman moved uncomfortably close to the cute girls walking in front of him.

Lerman, who (unbeknownst to his high-school friends) has not gotten any action during Welcome Week, said, “My left thigh definitely rubbed against that girl’s right butt cheek.”

“I always knew I was going to get so much ass at Northwestern,” Lerman added.

Several females reported feeling a variety of different grips on their derrières during the event. Recent case studies demonstrate that backhanding was incredibly popular. Although forehanding provides a more satisfying squeeze, males cite reasons to use the backhand as “it’s less obvious” and “it’s classier.”

The tables were turned around the Rainbow Alliance booth, however, where several males reported uncomfortable brush-bys, if not all-out grind-fests.

Another victim, Rachel Berzon, was violated many times in her Joe’s Jeans. She explains, “Right around the Lithuanian Group of Native Americans Against Gambling, I thought somebody was trying to pickpocket me. I turned around, readied my mace, and saw that it was only an ugly freshman smiling uncontrollably and pretending it wasn’t his hand that was just touching my rump.”

Since cute girls travel in packs, Rachel’s equally cute friend had a myriad of Purell-less and possibly swine flu-infected hands on her tookus. Eve, a devout prude, has not been this disappointed since the March Through the Arch. She stated, “If I wanted that stuff, I would just go Greek.”

Ellen Katz, who discovered the article while researching the mysterious origins of Dillo Day, was stunned by her discovery. “It was unbelievable. It was a grisly story, but it piqued my interest and I couldn’t stop reading… when an old map of the university showed the pool at the current location of the Rock, I couldn’t help but think ‘What if…?’”

Worthington drowned, apparently stunned by the fall, and his corpse froze along with the contents of the poorly-planned reservoir pending the arrival of a clean-up crew. Before the crew arrived, the scene of the accident was swarmed by enthusiastic Pi Kappa Alpha brothers, who covered the body with a spray-painted sign celebrating their recent intramural football victory.

At Katz’s behest, a full geological survey was conducted, showing that The Rock contains no stone whatsoever. A combination of X-ray imaging and strategic drilling revealed a skeleton under 107 years’ worth of paint. The lead in the innermost layers had corroded the body, but analysts were able to discern that Worthington lies in rest with a pleading arm stretched toward Harris Hall, the nearest shelter. Indeed, even today The Rock lists southward, capturing the freshman’s final throes. “This is an amazing discovery,” says Katz. “The story is so fascinating, I’m reconsidering my thesis topic.”

Stephens initially seemed exuberant upon hearing of the pregame. “I told Jack I just had to grab my ball and my bag and I’d meet him there,” the point guard explained, “but when I got to the room, there wasn’t so much as a Koosh hoop anywhere in sight.”

Vineyard explained that when Stephens entered the room, his gym attire and the orange ball in his hands initially confused the other attendees. However, his appearance was quickly forgotten in a chorus of “Hey!!!!” and Vineyard yelling, “SHOTS!!! FOR THIS GUY!” This seemed to delight Stephens, who then said, “Shots sounds good. I need to work on my jumper. Where are we going, exactly?”

The partygoers explained the Stephens that the party was right here, and he was about to get hammered. Stephens took offensive to this, replying, “I might be small, but no one throws down the hammer dunk on me. I’ll swat that shit away, no sweat.”

Eventually, Stephens began to lighten up, but retained his sporting personality throughout the pregame. When asked how he was doing, the point guard explained that he was just “taking it one drink at a time” and that he’ll “really need to step up at the actual party and give it his all.”

Stephens had reportedly been involved in a similar misunderstanding last week, when he wore his Sacramento Kings #4 jersey to a round of the drinking game of the same name.

Gubin stared down at the condom given to him in his 6th grade health class, muttering to himself, “Today is going to be the day.”

After stumbling into the hallway over the “Our Little Boy Is In College” doormat his mom stitched him, Gubin smiled at Communication sophomore Maya Lev, who has over a 1000 Facebook friends.

“I told him he should take the price tag off his jeans,” reported Lev, who is looking for more community service hours.

Gubin, who has yet to make a friend on X-box Live, unlocked all 3 Kryptonite locks on his bike and then honked his bike horn at Kristen Melick, a Weinberg freshman.

“I saw that brace-faced, acne-infested buffoon on Sheridan,” Melick texted Flipside reporters. “It was disgusting.”

Gubin, who isn’t even friends with his dog, commented that Melick “looked like she just swallowed a bug, which is just ridiculous because everybody knows bugs cannot survive in the Evanston climate during October.”

“She pulled out her phone. I bet she was telling her friends about me!” said Gubin. “I’m so excited! I need friends… I almost made one once, but I then pulled out my pocket-abacus… that was a bad call.”

Turning on Noyes, Gubin waved at a girl in skanky-ass clothes. She asked him if he wanted a friend. Gubin said yes. She told him it would cost 40 dollars an hour.

“That was a good deal. I’ve never had a friend for that long. She even is willing to check out my dorm. I hope she likes my Captain Underpants posters.”