Narrative Essay About Greek Life

I was standing there in line; everyone facing forward, no one allowed to speak, good posture, it was as if we were in the military. Then I hear loud chanting and stomping. Everyone turns to face the door. What is happening? Everyone’s heart stopped momentarily and then picked right back up again at an alarmingly fast rate when we realized we would be entering the premises in ten seconds. We were their prey. I needed to relax and remind myself that everything would be okay. Just thirty minutes, I could do it. The door opens.
We all file in one at a time and are greeting by about fifty girls singing all together with these giant smiles stretched across their faces and dressed to an intimidating level of perfection. As I entered, the scene overwhelmed me. All of a sudden I was taken away into this other room by one of the girls where we would talk for the next thirty minutes. The room I was in was unbelievably loud with the noise from all the chatter and conversations going on at the same time. It was challenging for me to stay focused on my conversation and not get distracted by everyone else in the room. It was also a little challenging to

think, on the spot, of conversation starters and different topics talk about. The next thing I new I was being escorted out of the house and getting back in line. The only thing going through my head at that moment was, what just happen? I was in for a long day; I still needed to do this nine more times at nine different houses. Welcome to Formal Greek Recruitment.

Greek life; how do you define it?

For the parents who have zero experience with the Greek system, it could be described as a group of crazed educationally unmotivated sexually active under aged alcoholics that party every day in one of the many fraternity houses where inside taking place are “frat boys” shot gunning beers in togas while everyone else drunkenly chants “chug chug chug”; a parent’s worst nightmare, right? Wrong. The Greek life is a system where people with the same values can come together and form special bonds and friendships that lasts a lifetime. It is also where students can give back to their communities and or other national organizations by putting on special fundraisers throughout the scholastic year. For those reasons, I decided that I wanted to sign up for recruitment and see what all the talk was

about.
There was a statement that stood out to me on the very first night prior to recruitment and it was, “this will be the best and worst week of your life”. I sort of dismissed it because I truly did not believe that the recruitment process would be all that bad. Sure, I accepted the fact that the process would result in long days, but I did not really think anything of it. As the days progressed, I came face to face with realization of how true that statement had been. The first day was surprisingly a lot of fun. I met numerous amounts of girls that were either going through recruitment, or that I had talked to in each of the ten sorority houses. I finished the first day feeling good about myself; I enjoyed my time at the majority of the houses and I was excited to start the next day. Day two is when things started to slightly turn around. Conversations at certain houses were turning extremely forced and time moved at an incredibly slow speed.
By the third and fourth day of recruitment I began to understand the second part of the statement where it said that this week would also be the worst week of your life. I was so ready for the week to be over and to be in a Greek house already. My mouth was tired from speaking, my brain was tired of thinking of new, interesting conversations to have with the Greek girls, and my anxiety was rising from the suspense that had been building up over the last four days. By the end of the fourth day, after spending the last hour at the very last house of recruitment my emotions, energy, and brain were drained. All I truly wanted to do were to find out right then and there which house I would be able to call my home for the next four years, and I wanted to call my mom.
After waiting six hours in a small, hot hallway in the resident halls, all of the potential new members were escorted to the Administration Building were we would finally discover what houses chose us. All 300 of us received our own yellow envelope, which carried our “bid cards” and were told to sit in the seats of the auditorium and wait for the go to open it. At this point I was fidgeting uncontrollably, on the verge of tears, and about ready to jump out of my seat and run outside to my new family because I was almost one hundred percent certain which house would be on that card. After twenty minutes of spine shivering anticipation the countdown began to open our cards. The whole room seemed to be the edges of their seats with the same emotions as I was feeling. Five, four, three, two, one… “Open your cards!”
My hands were shaking and my palms were sweaty as I was tearing open my envelope. I pulled out my bid card and immediately jumped out of my chair and shrieked of sheer joy. Delta Gamma, the house that was written on my card, the house I had wanted to be apart of more than anything, the house that felt most like home. This house was my new home and I was feeling this incredible form of pure joy. I ran out of the auditorium, squeezed my way past girls in the hallway, and ran outside to find all the current Delta Gamma’s waiting for their new members. As I was meeting all of my new sisters and celebrating an amazing moment of time I realized that this was where I needed to be. This is where I belong and I will remember that feeling and that evening, probably, for the rest of my life.