Word: cabots
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...Armed with the knowledge that a party exists in Cabot, the two look for directions to the shuttle stop. Hana Peljto ’04 points to her left and Ferrante and Houlihan start walking toward the river. “Hey, I was just kidding. It’s that way,” Peljto shouts after them as she directs them toward Johnston Gate. “When’s that fuck truck come?” Ferrante wonders out loud...
...After a few wrong turns, Houlihan and Ferrante find Cabot and begin a slow and unsure ascent on a stairwell teeming with folks looking to get their swerve on. Their hopes are dashed, though, as the line up the stairs is so thick and congested that entrance to the party is nearly impossible. They give up, having had their first taste of what a mess large parties in the Quad...
...plethora of ladies mill around outside Cabot but neither Houlihan nor Ferrante makes any attempt to put the mack down, work their mojo, or spit game at the young co-eds. Ferrante reflects on his unwillingness to do so: “C’mon Houlihan, you know and I know that I don’t got no balls...
...We’re going to go visit a few friends of mine in the Yard, and then head up to the Quad,” he says. “There’s something going in Cabot, and we might try the Belltower as well. Oh, and then we’ll head over to Eliot.” First there’s a quick bout of pre-party prepping. While his roommates, John A. Wolff ’06 and James A. Cleary ’06, relax in front of The Green Mile with some...
...When he arrives at Cabot the room is sparsely populated, but Fisher, unfazed by his unfortunate promptness, still works the crowd. He greets boarding-school sophomore buddies, his main social connections. At this early stage in the evening, the girl-to-guy ratio is skewed in favor of the girls, so it seems an appropriate time to delve into the murky waters of first-year love life. “There’s a lot of cutie-pie girls here,” Fisher observes, “but so far this year I haven’t asked...