Bursting the Bubble: the truth about events

Illustration by: Valeria Duca
Illustration by: Valeria Duca

As I unlocked my ice cold flat after a month away, visions of a new semester and new experiences started whizzing through my mind, “new”, being the key word ringing in my ears. So how come, after only a week back, I already feel like I’ve been going in circles?

Every time I go home, I’m plagued by a plethora of questions, including the prize-winning “have you met your prince?” question, and the dreary “does St Andrews actually have a night life?” question. After less than a moment’s thought, I usually jump into an almost defensive speech on the many ways St Andreans create their own fun. I tell my interrogators about our balls, the Union, flat parties, about our many nights spent scrambling the floors of the Vic and Ma Bells, and even slip in the occasional trip to our infamous “night club”, the Lizard, ending with the invigorating revelation that our community is what truly makes St Andrean events memorable.

Though this sometimes feels like a repetitive slur, I know I’m not lying. My answer is definitive; defensive solely on the basis that I wish others would understand the bizarre magic lying in the streets of this town. But after a year and a half in the Bubble, though I wouldn’t give up my life here for anything, I cannot deny the feeling that I just keep going in circles.

So after a week back, what have my dreams of a new semester and new experiences brought me? Not much. With Refreshers week bringing back hazy memories of Freshers (both this year’s and last), I felt myself falling back into an all too familiar rhythm: Tuesdays at Ma Bells, Wednesdays at the Union, Thursdays at the Vic, Fridays at the Union, and Saturdays — wherever. At this point, what really is so special about our town’s events?

Every week, the Vic advertises its usual line-up of events, which are in turn commemorated in a suite of almost identical photos, bearing identical people in an identical drunken assemblage. Every month, on a Wednesday, the Union opens its doors to a crowd resembling a Halloween rampage. Every year, we are faced with buying tickets to the same balls, events and fashion shows, hosted by the same people, and never really changing much from their predecessors. Our life in this town is made up of an endless continuum of circles, including everything from friend groups to daily routines, from semesters and years, to night-long events.

Is this then, my most honest answer? Am I really that bored with my circular routine of identical nights out? Why do we really go to the same events, with the same people to take identical pictures in an identical drunken assemblage? Because its become tradition.

The truth is, I think we rely on tradition; our university is steeped in it, and though we might occasionally roll our eyes at it, we usually tend to revel in tradition, and our events are merely a part of what makes this university unique. From gowns and PHs, to Tuesdays at Ma Bells and the Bop, our repetitive nature is what enhances our illusion of the Bubble, and truly, I don’t think we’d have it any other way.

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