At Long Last, They’ve Ruined River Run

It’s that time of year again. Tomorrow night, hordes of freshmen will stampede from River house to River house, taking a shot of liquor at each and praying to the omniscient (though assuredly not benevolent) river gods for good luck on Housing Day.

To begin with, let’s get one thing out of the way: We find River Run despicable.

We came to Harvard to study — not to have fun. That the University has long tolerated a tradition so debauched and morally deleterious as this is a stain on its long and uninterrupted record of moral purity.

In particular, the paragons of virtue on this Editorial Board stand in profound and unceasing opposition to underage drinking. These hallucinogenic libations corrupt the mind and weaken the body. They are beneath the dignity of our scholarly pursuits.

Despite our total and utter lack of participation in River Run (we never drink alcohol at The Crimson, as a matter of policy), if we had to put ourselves in the shoes of the drunkards and wastrels, we would find the College’s decision to provide the freshmen with swipe access a damn shame.

If the derelicts of the Class of 2027 insist on running the river, they should be chased. With pitchforks. Even the damned deserve to feel something. Still, freshmen can take solace: At least you don’t have midterms scheduled for the following day…

For those intrepid souls who might, against our counsel, partake in River Run, we offer a series of modest proposals:

1. Left-Handed Shots: Getting drunk is a sin. And Jesus said: “If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away” (Matthew 5:30). As you can see, the left hand is fair game. Take your shots with it, for safety reasons.

1. Milk is Might: Remember, you must under no circumstances cross an upperclassman’s threshold without a gallon of milk. Think of it like a secret handshake, the currency of the realm. It’s custom.
2. Cheese for Peace: To navigate the perilous paths of the River Houses, one must be armed with cheese to bargain with the river mice. Legend has it: they hold the keys to the kingdom.
3. The Numbers Game: What better time to expand your social circle? Demand phone numbers at every door. Your Rice Purity score? An excellent conversation starter, now that it’s in the public domain anyway.
4. Sacrifice the Blockmate: Every group has one. You know the one. Do it.
5. Quad Pilgrimage: Spare a thought for the lonely souls of the Quad on this holiest of nights. Your visit is a beacon of hope in their otherwise-solitary existence.
6. The Path Less Swiped: Remember, true River Runners scorn the swipe in favor of more clandestine methods of ingress. Walls are for scaling, windows for clambering. For those suffering from the Annenberg freshman fifteen — minus fifteen, that is — you might find success squeezing down the chimney.

In all seriousness, traditions like River Run (which we do not support) remind us that even amidst the stress of school, there’s always room for a little mischief. To the freshmen, we say: Drink water, make safe decisions, and care for your friends.

Run safely, run wisely, run well, and may your milk jugs be full.

This staff editorial solely represents the majority view of The Crimson Editorial Board. It is the product of discussions at regular Editorial Board meetings. In order to ensure the impartiality of our journalism, Crimson editors who choose to opine and vote at these meetings are not involved in the reporting of articles on similar topics.

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