FM's Guide to Yardfest Survival

First piece of advice: set your alarm.
By Kylie S. Gleason and Kathryn C. Reed

THE PREGAME

First piece of advice: set your alarm. It is a Sunday after all, and since Harvard apparently doesn’t celebrate Patriot’s Day like the rest of Massachusetts, you’re going to have to wake up for class on Monday. If you actually remember to do this after Yardfest, you’re a huge failure.

Then you need to get some food in your system, but who says you have to be sober while stuffing yourself with all of the breakfast delights you don’t get during the week? Sunday brunch plus impending free concert practically demands mimosas. The day should at least start classy.

After mimosas, it’s crunch time. As the hour draws nigh, it’s time to cram those lyrics while downing drinks. The possibilities are endless, from power hours with minute-long snippets of each artist’s songs to musical chairs, the drinking edition. By the time you’re sufficiently buzzed, it will be time to head to the Yard.

THE CONCERT

The Problem: No cheat sheets­—how do you pretend that you know the lyrics?

The Solution: If it’s Kid Cudi, no worries. For most songs, repeating the last two words of a line will do, and throwing in a “what, what” every once  in a while can even make it seem like you know the song. Wale only has one song, so just learn it. As for Patrick Park, if you listen closely, half of his songs are actually just him softly weeping—don’t even bother.

The Problem: The artists are indie and hip-hop, and you fall far from either of these extremes. Which genre do you feign an interest in?

The Solution: While Kid Cudi sings about freeing his mind “a puff at a time,” Park’s allusions to illegal substances are far and few between (“your smile is a drug”?). Few people are diehard fans of both, so don’t attempt to convince others that you’ve followed the cross-country tours of all three. Pick one, stick with it, make it believable: “Yeah, sometimes I sing ‘O Let’s Do it Freestyle’ in the shower. My blockmates aren’t really into it.”

The problem: Clothing.

The Solution: Don’t run to Urban Outfitters in a desperate attempt to look indie and definitely do not make a day trip to the CambridgeSide Galleria in search of baggy pants and fitteds. This is still Harvard, and HUPD will probably remove you anyway if you’re not wearing Nantucket Reds and Top Siders.

The Problem: You listen to hip-hop while getting wasted on Saturday nights, but you’ve never listened to indie in your life.

The Solution: Just claim to be so indie that you stopped listening to Peter Parker before he “sold out”—you feel that underground music is more genuine. Make up a name of another “artist” that you’re currently into, and people will think that you’re both legit and really pretentious. Perfect.

The Problem: Even this advice can’t make you appear to be a true fan.

The Solution: Don’t worry. You’ll probably spend most of Kid Cudi’s performance texting your friends at state schools about the fact that you’re watching Kid Cudi perform. You don’t really need to sing along or appear interested anyway.

THE POSTGAME

When Kid Cudi leaves the stage, you really just have two options remaining: continue the party or take steps to prevent your hangover. If you’ve got some extra dough to shell out you could start bumpin’ and grindin’ (and flying?) at Rumor with the gentlemen of the PSK. If not, you could always sit back, relax, and listen to Kid Cudi while staring into the iTunes visualizer.

No matter what you do, at the end of the night, you’re going to have to recuperate eventually. First, your ears—if you were one of the lucky ones standing next to the speakers, you might want to give yourself an hour to regain your hearing. If it doesn’t come back, check for bleeding and make an appointment at UHS. Next step? Take preventative measures for your impending hangover. Hit up your favorite Square munchies joint to absorb whatever’s left of the champagne, beer, and other substances in your stomach. Then trek it to CVS and chug at least three Vitamin Waters before passing out for the start of another week.

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