Greek life at Loyola would only complicate a divided campus

Last weekend was the conclusion to Loyola's sorority and fraternity pledge week. The sororities on Guilford Avenue were excited to announce that they have received the highest number of recruits in the history of Loyola, and the fraternities on York Road didn't share much information, though we do hear they plan to throw more keg parties than ever this spring.

One of the rules during pledge week for sorority Kappa Kappa Gamma was that no pledge could look another member of the sorority in the eye on campus or acknowledge pledges of other sororities.

Rumor has it one freshman recruit for KKG forgot to wear sunglasses on the bridge and accidentally waved to someone she thought was her RA. It wasn't her RA—it was the Member Chair of KKG. She received a note in her mail stop later that day stating: "you made the glance, you lost the chance. You're out." Not even an extra-large Red Mango fro-yo with extra strawberries could cheer her up.

The fraternities have been taking a more competetive approach. Rather than ignoring each other on the bridge, the upperclassmen of fraternities such as Delta Phi and Kappa Sigma run up to their freshman pledges and whack them with lacrosse wands or trip them with their hockey sticks.

Pledges interested in joining the lacrosse players' fraternity were forced to bring their sticks everywhere they went; they attached leashes to them and used them to take notes in class, used them like a bindlestiff to carry their books; and if a girl approached them, would place their lacrosse sticks between them gaze into the mesh net of their sticks while saying, "Sorry, I'm taken."

Though none of this is terribly far-fetched, you catch my drift. None of this happened. But imagine if it did.

Imagine a world at Loyola where the already egotistical sports players and brand-occupied girls walked on the stone decorated campus feeling an even stronger power because they were part of Greek life.

The other night, I was finally next in line after a long wait for a bar bathroom. I was approached by a girl who, with arms folded, gave me the death stare and said, "I'm a senior."

All I said back to her was "Cool. I'm a junior…"

Though I would have loved to grab a lacrosse stick and whack her or trip her with a hockey stick like my fellow frat-bro's would do, I held back and let her take her pride and pee into the beer-soaked seatless toilet.

That night, all I could really think was how grateful I was to St. Ignatius for keeping Loyola grounded as a truly Jesuit institution. Even though there might be a certain divide between grades at Loyola, it doesn't come close to the segregation schools with Greek life experience. Loyola may have a hierarchy of sorts, but if we can live without the abundance of theme parties and deal with having at least '80s night and a hoedown or two, I'm content with the nonexistence of Greek life.