As a frequent yoga-goer and a hopeful future yoga-instructor, I brushed off a glow-in-the-dark Zumba class as another easy, minimal-cardio workout. The sensations in my body the next day suggested otherwise. I had gone to Zumba a few times before, … Read More
Every year, during the last couple weeks of May, the orange and black paraphernalia that distinguishes the bubble inside FitzRandolph Gate bleeds into the town of Princeton. Princeton Pride takes on a whole new characteristic when alumni from classes of the 1920s to the most recent graduating class infest the town with their orange blazers, Princeton umbrellas, and babies in Tiger onesies.
Shortly after missing the University’s emergency call, and being told by my dad that someone was running rampant with a gun on campus, I found myself barricaded in the women’s bathroom of Frist, B Level. My four Theta friends, their Mandatory Bonding session having been canceled, and two freshman ice hockey players had “jammed” the bathroom door closed with a doorstopper in hopes of stopping the gunman.
