Monica Sandu ‘24
Co-Executive Editor
My gown was ready. My makeup was flawless. My spirits were high. I was ready for Barrister’s. The only thing missing? The alcohol.
I’d been looking forward to Barrister’s ever since I heard the words “law school prom.” Who doesn’t love getting dolled up, going to fancy resorts, and dancing the night away like we’re at the end of a teen rom-com? But I was driving to and from the Law School that night, so I saved a few bucks and went for the non-drinking ticket.[1]
My stint as the “mom friend” of the night began before we’d even gotten on the bus. In classic Virginia fashion, “spring weather” was more of a suggestion. Though ball gowns are lovely, they’re not intended to brave the arctic chill, so I had to run to my car and grab the spare sweater I keep there for a friend who’d forgotten hers. Pulling up in the bus, the excitement was palpable as a sea of satin, suits, and sparkles descended upon Boar’s Head.
Once we arrived, my group made our way, of course, to the bar. Though the Shirley Temple I’d asked for ended up being a tequila-less sunrise, I still felt incredibly fancy as my friends and I took a turn about the room, marveling at how nice everything looked and stuffing our purses with free law firm goodies.[2] I have no clue how to play roulette, but seeing everyone line up around the tables and placing chips on numbers was like being in a real-life James Bond movie. Seemingly everywhere I looked, there was another person I knew dressed to the nines, each dress more beautiful than the last. Compliments flowed, and everyone felt beautiful.
My best decision of the night was keeping a pair of flats in my purse for when my heels inevitably hurt my feet. After my initial glamor shots, I broke off from my group to put my heels at the coat check. This turned out to be the worst decision of the night. I spent the next hour hopelessly lost as my friends had disappeared into the masses of students, leaving me alone to do the most daunting thing imaginable for a 1L–socialize with people outside of my section.
I must have walked around the entire space at least three times, but it wasn’t all bad. I was in the front of the line when they finally brought the food out. I’ve never seen piranhas feed before, but I imagine it must come close to being with people who, upon spotting the tray of hors d’oeuvres come out, congealed into a crushing mass following the food. Trying to grab a plate was like fighting an upstream current in a storm, but I made it out alive–with a raw carrot and two shrimp to show for it.
By 9:00 p.m., I came to realize that the sober friend has another very important function: taking pictures. It was a privilege to be told that the photos I’d snapped at the request of a nearby couple were the best ones they’d gotten all night, because nobody else was able to keep the camera straight.
Just when I had nearly lost all hope that I’d actually get a chance to dance with my friends, our eyes reunited from across the floor. The DJ came through with a classic Cupid Shuffle,[3] and there were smiles and off-key singing all around as I tried, and failed, to avoid bumping shoulders with everyone around me. The energy and pure joy emanating from the room as the DJ followed up with a set of great songs was unparalleled, and for the first time in years, I let loose and got to party.
Though I ended the night soon after, the beautiful memories I made are ones that I will always carry with me, and I look forward to what adventures—sober or otherwise—next year will bring.
---
ms7mn@virginia.edu
[1] Not that it mattered; once we got in, I’m pretty sure everyone was given the same purple wristband. I blended right in with the cool kids. Besides, I consume alcohol the healthy way: alone in my room.
[2] Who doesn’t need a Sidley charging bank and a White & Case tote bag?
[3] Supplementing the instructions with clarifications of when to go “to the right” and “to the left” during all the musical interludes.