Because Bwog knows you’re not really going to Tom’s with your OL group. (You know you don’t have to, right?) Here, several upperclassmen recall what they did on their first night of college.

My best friend from high school arrived at NYU the day before and he had already made friends with Haley Joel Osment. I called my friend and met up with him, Haley, and Haley’s entourage at a club in meatpacking where the 7 of us were given three bottles of vodka and an assortment of juices- all free. This was just after his DUI. –BC ’10

I didn’t have a computer that first night, so I was writing a letter by hand to a friend to tell her how college was going so far, when I looked out the window of my room in Wallach to see a bunch of freshmen from John Jay 5 staring back at me, motioning for me to come outside with them for a party on the lawn. I grabbed my suitemate and walked to the steps with our new friends. We were still wearing our pajamas. I thought “This is college — wearing your pajamas outside.” — CC’09

I was bored, so I tried to go to Williamsburg, got lost and ended up at a Puerto Rican pizza joint on Southside where, assuming New York was incredibly foreign, I did all my ordering in high school Spanish and was mocked, although it was in a cheerful, friendly way. They thought I meant I was moving to Colombia. Either way it’s hard to get home on the J train. — CC’09

I showed up in New York with my family at around 8 AM, mind and body reeling from a red-eye spent frenetically trying to assimilate every last word of the Iliad into my soul (I got to book 10 or somewhere around there.) I spent the day in a zombie-like haze attending to a million little tasks needed to transplant my life from Seattle to Carman, bumming meals off of my parents, and clamoring for sheets in the bedlam of Bed, Bath & Beyond.

When it was all over, I had no greater desire than to collapse in bed and escape from reality, but then my roommate – an earring-wearing Asian dude – arrived all the way from Brooklyn and declared his irresistable desire to cohabit Carman 913A with a certain someone else, whom I discovered a few minutes later to be an obese Russian resembling the lovechild of Ignatius J. Reilly and Boris Yeltsin, reeking not of vodka but BO.  Their demands were relentless.  What could I do?  These two were clearly meant to be together.  So I made them haul my sheets, my clothes, my toiletries, the shower caddy that I’d just set up – all of my personal belongings were moved once again to Carman 1115B, where, exhausted from 40+ hours of stress, I dissolved into oblivion and awoke half a day later to the sweet sight of a lovely new roommate.  It was the best night’s sleep I’d have for weeks. — CC’10