Better Dead than Head

Look--down there, river-ward. See them? The vendors, the die-hard crew fans, the novice crew fans, the cops, the babies, the dogs on leashes, the high school kids, the varsity-jacketed crew folk. But someone's missing: us. The Harvard kids. That's because we're in hiding.

Normalcy returns on Sunday evening, but to tide you over until then, Fifteen Minutes has compiled a variety of stories, opinions and helpful advice pertaining to the upcoming sporting/drinking event. Together, we can wait this thing out. Good luck.

The Head Honcho Speaks

Each year Cambridge plays host to the frenzied masses of prep school students visiting for Head of the Charles weekend. "But," we wondered, "what about the folks back home? What about their schools' administrations? Are they clueless, or just looking the other way?"

Kendra S. O'Donnell, principal of Phillips Exeter Academy, told us that the Head is "a festive weekend," and added that "there are many tempatations for kids." She stresses that the administration "makes it clear that students are expected to act responsibly," but that the school's main concern is safety.

In the past, many students have left for the weekend without solidified plans, hoping to "crash" somewhere once they had arrived. This year, O'Donnell plans to recommend that students secure concrete invitations and have actual destinations to insure their safety.

O'Donnell added cryptically that others in the administration might have more "vivid" stories which they "may or may not wish to share..." SONNA MOON

The Prep School Kid's Guide to Big Fun in Cambridge

Saturday: As soon as the young Exonians are off the bus, they charge into a convenience store for a pack of cigarettes. As they puff on that first Marlboro, they feel the tobacco rush through their clean systems, leaving them light-headed and sweaty.

Next stop: Chef Chow's, high noon. After a luncheon of lo mein and liquor, the savvy prep school kid stumbles around the Square, seeking other rebels. They loudly congratulate each other for being so damn cool. The lucky few who have acquired bottles of hard alcohol usually don't last past 4:00 p.m.

"I remember getting into the cab, giving the driver my address, throwing up all over myself as the cab left the Square, and the driver telling me that there would be a cleaning charge. I woke up on the couch in my basement with my wallet empty, and naked from the waist down," recounts one proud Exonian who asks for anonymity.

Others aren't so fortunate. "This girl named Allie was stumbling between groups of students next to Out-of-Town News, holding a bottle of vodka. She would find some people she vaguely recognized, thrust out her bottle, and in a squeaky voice, shriek, `Who wants a sip of Allie's Vodka? You want a sip of Allie's vodka!' Until a large police officer grunted, `I want a sip of Allie's Vodka!' and confiscated the bottle." recalls Exonian Matt Johnson '97.

Saturday evening: The vomit comes faster, freer. Among those who attempt a pilgrimage to Boston, the number of stories about such-and-such blowing chunks on the subway is mindboggling. The rowdy party-goers who stick closer to Harvard, on the other hand, have one destination: any party that will let them in.

Others rent hotel rooms on their parents' credit cards, and sleep six or more to a room. Invariably someone stumbles into the room, pukes on one bed, and falls asleep in the other. Fifteen minutes later, he empties his stomach on that one, too.

Sunday evening: Everyone returns to school with a story or two, and the Academy locks away her rebellious children for the winter. By December, the Head stories have grown, both in number and notoriety.   ETHAN A. VOGT '97, Exeter '92

Milk: It Does a Preppy Good

"Somebody's trying to poon the `Poon," Dave said. David J. Kennedy `93, writer, orator, and effete ne'er-do-well, was standing before me in one of his tiffs. He let out a huff of indignation, mussing his debate jock/skate rat bangs. He handed me a crude flyer which he had ripped off a kiosk. It read, "Come to the Harvard Lampoon's Fourth Annual Head of the Charles Prep School Open House. Refreshments served, admission tips offered. Just knock!" Beneath, a crude map invited every Groton, Exeter and Andover refugee to beat a path to our pari-colored door.

"These are everywhere," Dave told me. "This means war." I told him to calm down, that it was a harmless prank, that no one would come.

They came. Drunk, loud and angry. They'd been promised a party and would not be denied. This did indeed mean war.

Kennedy was drinking from a two-liter Cokebottle when he finally snapped. He climbed to thetop of the Lampoon's tower, threw open the windowsand shared his Coke with the parties below.

"How could you?" I asked in horror. "That wasincredibly stupid. Pass me that carton of spoiledmilk."

Soon a few other staffers joined us, and wespent the rest of night proving to our guestsbelow that Harvard's cup really does runneth overwith hospitality.  JOHN ABOUD

A rendez-vous, a Little Crew

Never mind how it happened. Only know this:that during Head of the Charles weekend--thebiggest weekend of the year--I was standing at aHarvard Square newsstand waiting for a blind dateto show up. She hailed from a women's schoolacross the river, and we had agreed to meet atnoon.

On Sunday I arrived at my appointed spot andwaited. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Shewasn't going to show.

"Just as well," I thought, and pivoted towardthe river. Then I felt a tap on the shoulder.

"Are you--Justin?" a stranger asked.

I paused. The person didn't fit the descriptionof my date, not even remotely.

"Uh, yes," I said, as if I didn't know who Iwas.

Well, the stranger turned out to be my date.And, I'm proud to say, in June she will becomeMrs. Justin Ingersoll.

Ha! Fooled ya!

The day went about as well as you'd expect. Alot of this: "So, you go to a single sex school.What's that like?"

And this: "What are you majoring in again?"

We haven't had anything to do with each othersince.

Drop this magazine and run to the liquor store.Starting Saturday, the HUPD will seal off the Yardand check student IDs. The purpose of this addedmeasure of protection is to prevent hordes ofpolar-fleeced, loafer-clad, baseball-capped,crew-fans-for-a-weekend from entering and cloggingthe halls of Harvard, but it's also possible thatyour friends Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker mightget stopped, too.

The actual race is something of adisappointment. Don't get me wrong; crew is agrueling sport peopled with some of thebest-conditioned athletes on the globe. Butthere's a reason why Nike doesn't plaster Americawith ads saying, "Just Crew It," and it hassomething to do with the fact that viewing aregatta is like watching paint dry.

Some people complain about this weekend. Therooms are too crowded, introductions are tooawkward, and the event looks like a Phoeneciandrag race cheered on by drunken L.L. Bean models.But I would like to point out the upside of thiswhole dinghy derby: there are going to be largenumbers of people who have had too much to drinkand are in dire need of a place to crash. Readthat last sentence again. And this is one of thefew instances where your Harvard affiliation willelicit more than those lame "pahk ya cah" jokes.

Finally, Head of the Charles weekend offers aunique opportunity for you to display your schoolpride. Forget the races; we usually win and evenif we don't who can tell anyway? Conquer in theareas where Harvard is traditionally weak--i.e.the festive arts. Take to the fields, the sofas,the beer-slicked tiled floors, the bars, and yourroommate's bed. Show the rest of the world thisplace didn't become the most powerful academicinstitution on the planet by producing agoraphobiclosers. After all, 200,000 people will be here tosee the action.  JUSTIN INGERSOLL

View of the Charles from the IvoryTower--Not Thrilling:

Professor of English and American Literatureand Language D.A. Miller, who teaches a course on"Hitchcock" which, according to the 1993-94 CourseGuide, considers "offices performed in our cultureby notions of the `thrilling'." Via telephone,here is Miller on the Head of the Charles:

"I'm sorry. I don't know what that is."(Laughter. Click.)  JEROME CHOU

View of the Charles from UniversityHall--Upbeat, Cautious

Dean Archie C. Epps III:

"It can be a wonderful event for our studentsif we can achiever good crowd control."

Good crowd control? How will that come about?

"Unfortunately, we have to think a lot abouthow to preserve unintended damage and we hopepeople do not mind the extra security measures."

Any final advice?

"I recommend that students go down to cheer theHarvard boats as they go by."

And does Dean Epps root for the home team?

"Yes, I do."  NATASHA H. LELANDA-10