Rats. Laughter. Pancakes. Wet grass. The recipe for a fun night?

Even if you mentally said, “definitely not,” it turns out the answer is yes. Nearly a hundred students gathered in the BLC Quad after last week’s Garden Party for the film Ratatouille (we can never be certain that we’re spelling that word correctly, can we?) and pancakes made and served by our lovely SPA. And there was laughter — “I killed a man. With THIS thumb,” anyone? — and friends piled onto blankets to avoid getting soaked by the dewy late-night grass, some still in their fancy Garden Party dresses and suits (one young gentleman was spotted wearing a beflowered hat and this Scroll reporter would like to publicly acknowledge admiration for his dapper sense of fashion) — perhaps not quite ready to let go of that dressed-up-glow, while others changed into comfy lounge pants and hoodies before settling in. Pancakes were eaten with gusto and everyone seemed more than content to let the evening stretch on longer, to huddle close to their friend, to revel in laughter and being present in that one small good moment. It wasn’t audible, of course, but the whole evening had the feeling of a sigh. 

Am I just imagining it, or are we leaning just a little bit closer to our friends these days, letting late nights get just a bit later because we don’t want to say goodbye, appreciating the people around us just a little bit more than usual? 

Recent graduate and newly-alum Caleb Kite returned to Cairn for the first time since graduation for the big event and attended the Afterparty as well, where I spoke with him. “I’ve never seen so many people at the Garden Party,” he mused. He speculates that people are longing for community now more than ever. 

I think he’s right. 

As I looked around, I noticed the usual “clumps.” Larger groups are nearer the projector, while couples who wanted a little more privacy were further away. And there were those on the fringes as well, alone or in occasional, awkward pairs. And I understand them, too. Because this event, like all college events, perhaps, is just a microcosm of the entire college experience. There will always be those party people who show up, looking flawless, posting the gorgeous stills on Instagram the next day; the people, like myself, who think themselves rather edgy for choosing a night in over such plebeian pleasures as music, laughter, and dancing; there will be the people at the center of it all and the people on the fringes and sometimes, I’ve realized, it can feel like you are both, all of it, everything, all at once. 

We should do a better job, I think it goes almost without saying, of drawing people into community with us — especially now, when people are so evidently searching for it. The fringes are a fun place to observe, no doubt, for watchers of humanity like myself, but I hate to think that someone there that night wanted someone to talk to them, and no one did. I hate to think that anyone just slipped away after a while, unnoticed both when they were there and when they left. Let’s be a student body that doesn’t let people fall through the cracks. 

Because they came… and that’s what leapt out at me the most. All of these people, they came to this Afterparty. I don’t think they came for a film about rat chefs and I don’t think most of them came for pancakes slathered in whipped cream (although one Josiah Hasbrouck did inform me that he was “only here for the pancakes,” so perhaps I should stand corrected on that point). They came because people want to be with people. 

And that is no small thing. 

That is mundane and extraordinary and kind of breathtakingly beautiful.