Probed repeatedly about returning to school eight days before classes actually began, I merely explained that it was my duty to party. For how irresponsible would I be were I to fail to take advantage of Cornell’s beautiful weather, parentless dwellings and ineffectual policemen? In a place where roaming the streets with jungle juice flies and lawn- front beer pong is a way of life, the notion of being here to learn is easily suspended.

So, what have I to say this time? First off, a hearty welcome back, bitches. Looks like summer has come and gone, and we Cornellians have returned with vengeance. No matter if you’ve spent your summer sweating it out at Morgan Stanley, lounging at the beach, lifeguarding or scooping ice cream, we students have officially re-colonized campus and made our presence known.

Whether you’ve moved into Mews, made it to Collegetown or are living in the brothel formerly known as [insert sorority name here], there is something in the Ithaca air that tells you you’re home. Be it the stale beer, the pheromones or the X5 exhaust, orientation week means feeling good, looking good and getting your party on. While Collegetown may look a little different, campus construction may have hardly progressed and your house may reek of hippie subletters, there’s no anticipation in the world like that preceding your first night at the ’nell.

While some of us have chosen to train all summer, others have kindly given their livers a break. But regardless of your current tolerance for booze, your insides are going to hate you by the end of these first weeks. With C-town parties up and down the block, orientation is a great opportunity to catch up with old friends — that is, before you get on a table with them at Johnny O’s. It’s a chance to pretend you were friends with people you weren’t and forget you ever were with some others, because during orientation week, anything goes.

The only real O-week party foul? Getting cornered by someone lame, forced to answer the question, “What’d you do this summer?” for the forty-third time. At a loss for anything remotely interesting to say, this go-to question never fails to spark conversation. But will I actually remember your response tomorrow? No. Do I care what bank robbed you of your sleep and sanity for ten whole weeks? Not so much. Internship, shminternship — you didn’t get paid (or at least not much). But on to more interesting things…

If you ask any O-week superstar, he or she will tell you the real reason for utter obliteration, apart from mild alcoholism: getting some. The same age, different ages, friends or strangers, O-week hookups are likely anything but appropriate. Having trouble tackling your prey? Thinking everyone looks thinner and tanner than you? Not to worry, beer goggles are on your side. And if those won’t do it? Well, Jack’s is sure to pack at least a few pounds on the competition. You can have your buffalo chicken sandwich and eat it, too! Just remember: with scandal brewing fresh each morning, don’t do anything you’ll regret too much the next day.

Speaking of regret…freshmen. Freshman year. Freshman girls, freshman boys. While the only people who really mind their presence are horny dudes and overzealous Greeks, there is something nostalgically, pitifully sweet about watching them wander down College Ave. like deer in headlights. Traveling in herds en route to friends’ friends’ apartments, these lost little souls remind us that we, too, once had four whole years ahead of us. Seeing yourself in these newbies’ shoes, have at least a little sympathy. We all know you’d take the bus back to Nasties any night of the week.

By the time orientation week came to an end, the idea of sitting in a classroom was unfathomable. Critical thinking and library cramming but distant memories, you may find it tough to perform even long division for the dinner bill. The binge drinking destroyed any spare brain cells you might have had, and the ones leftover will have to make do. While you said say goodbye to day drinking and gorge jumping and hello to the Arts Quad, don’t get too down on yourself. Hey, you might even get your voice back if you stay sober for 48 whole hours! For, as dismal as the reality of starting class may be, we Cornellians know one thing above all else: we’re definitely not going to let school get in the way of college.