This month, 300 SMU coeds get Greek and go running through the streets.
I have always wanted to join a sorority. Because then I would have a secure, safe, and comfortable place where I wouldn’t be criticized for my flaws and shortcomings, a place where my individuality would be appreciated and even celebrated. Plus, I imagined late-night pillow fights with my frisky sisters. That’s what I was thinking, several years ago, when I first heard about SMU’s Pig Run. My friend Kelley told me about it. She was a Gamma Phi Beta.
Pig Run works like this: at the culmination of Rush Week, wherein the freshman women (freshwomen?) and the sororities get acquainted by performing skits and decorating teddy bears for poor children, about 300 freshmaidens gather in the basement of the student center to get their bids. A bid is an invitation to come to the safe place where they won’t be criticized for their flaws and where they can be individuals, together. And have pillow fights. Once they learn which house or houses will have them, the freshfrauen squeal with delight and dash from the campus to Sorority Row, down the street. Hence the name Pig Run. Admittedly, it’s not a flattering term. But I didn’t invent it.
If you’re in the vicinity of SMU on the morning of January 11, you can witness the pageantry yourself. Or, if you’d like to get closer to the action, you can do what I did when Kelley described Pig Run to me. You can run it, too. Here’s your how-to guide:
First, get yourself a white turtleneck. Every girl wears a white turtleneck to Pig Run, because when they reach Sorority Row, they throw on a sorority jersey, and every sorority’s colors go well with a white turtleneck. You’ll also want to wear blue jeans and comfortable shoes for climbing over chairs.
Get to the Hughes-Trigg Student Center early, but not too early. If you’re the only guy in a white turtleneck, as I was, the girls will stare at you. They’ll all be seated alphabetically and on top of the envelopes with their bids in them, and a Panhellenic spokesperson will drone on for about 20 minutes about the beauty of Panhellenism (but avoiding altogether the topic of pillow fights). You should stand at the back of the room and look anxious. But, again, not too anxious.
Don’t wear perfume. The girls will wear plenty for you.
There will ensue a countdown to the opening of the envelopes, so that they can all be opened simultaneously by the girls. Time your first squeal to coincide with theirs. An early squeal could ruin the day. Consider going with: “Woooo, Gamma!” Or, alternately: “Wee, Theta!” If you can manage tears, that can sometimes be a nice touch.
The real mayhem begins when the girls go for the exits, sometimes climbing over chairs and each other. I saw one girl fall and almost not make it to her feet. Be prepared to be trampled to death.
A side note: every year, a small number of girls will not receive a bid from their first- or second-choice sororities. This is known as “falling through the cracks.” Watch out for those girls. They’re unpredictable.
Next, it’s into the streets. Crowds of fraternity men will line the Pig Run route, sporting Super Soakers filled with water and worse. The school is trying to curtail the squirting of beer and the throwing of eggs. Again, if you’re the only guy in a white turtleneck, realize that you make an easy mark. To lessen your chances of being hit, run low to the ground and stay with the herd, using the girls as human shields.
Finally, you will reach the mob scene in the front yards along Sorority Row. Here each house will have a deejay who will compete to have the loudest sound system, although there is a bill before the Panhellenic Council that would contain the proceedings by forcing everyone into the houses. In any case, once you reach Sorority Row, you’ll want an accomplice who can slip a jersey over your head, hug you, and maybe give you a balloon. Otherwise you’ll be the only one still wearing a white turtleneck. And you’ll just have to stand there, feeling very alone, as all these freshwomen have the time of their lives. That safe place will seem miles away, in another town not on any map you’ll ever own. And you can forget about the pillow fight.
