1:01 AM: After a long, productive night of studying, I decide to retire to my suite in an attempt to unwind and, eventually, fall asleep. Somehow, I know even before I enter my room that the nightly ritual has begun. I steel myself as I approach the front door.
There’s a new dance craze sweeping the nation, folks, and it puts all the rest to shame. Look around: no one’s “wobbling” anymore, the “Cupid shuffle” is long gone, and the “one-two step” died with Ciara and Missy Elliot’s music careers. Right now, it’s all about the Harlem Shake.
You thought it wasn’t possible. You thought it couldn’t be done. You thought the earth would stop rotating before a freshman boy became the most popular kid on campus—even if it was only for a week.
