A pack of bobby pins sailed past my head as I walked through the door.
"Does anyone have any hairspray?"
A blonde in tight jeans scooted between me and the wall with a pink makeup bag in her hand. I walked toward her, tip-toeing over the minefield of art supplies, overnight bags and extra furniture as I went.
"Here," she said, reaching around the corner for a can of John Frieda lying supine on a cluttered table. "Use this," she said. "It's really light though. It might not hold those curls."
I stepped into a fog of perfume as I entered the tiny bathroom behind her.
Eight girls in matching blue t-shirts and pearls crowded around the double sink, hands flying in a ballet of "Where is my mascara?" and "Who took the chapstick?"
No one waited for an answer. No one expected one, either.
I set my purse down beside a mountain of leather wedges on the floor.
"OK Little," I said, referring to my bewildered-looking "little sis" closest to the wall. She'd never been through sorority recruitment before, and thankfully, another girl was already working on her hair.
"I curled it this morning, I swear," she said, meekly flipping her shoulder-length brown locks.
I laughed.
"This is Memphis honey. Did you really expect them to last?"
She rolled her eyes and my fake-glare melted into giggles. I handed her my mother's pearl necklace, on loan for the evening, as our meticulously manicured formal recruitment chair hurried through the crowd.
Nervous, but stunning, she smiled when she saw me.
"Hey Megan!" she said, pausing to wave.
Someone yelled from the kitchen.
"Name tags girls! And where are the mints? Someone bought more Tic-Tacs right?"
Her mouth was still open as she flew toward the door.
-
My dear sorority recruitment, I don't miss you at all.
Hours of practice and preparation lead to five exhausting days where, as a freshman, you're expected to select a group of women who will love and support you through your collegiate career, five days to find a new family, a new home.
Well I wasn't a freshman, and nearly half my college years were over, but for me, recruitment was an arduous beginning to one of the most rewarding pieces of my life story.
Now an alumna member, I have the luxury of looking back with a sympathetic smile.
There were dance competitions, spirit rallies, philanthropy events and parties. I learned to do the sorority pose - chin up, shoulders back, hand on hip, one leg forward - and the finer points of more bar games than I ever cared to know.
I met successful alumnae, held leadership positions and got to try out new outfits on my sisters before potentially embarrassing myself in public.
I had hands to hold during difficult days, and met more than a few endearing souls I know I'll remember to my dying day.
I made fun of Greek life once. I didn't understand.
Our connection was and is more than something to do on a Saturday night.
Bound by ritual, fostered by friendship and entrusted with secrets older than any chant or cheer, we were chosen by the ones who came before us.
Recruitment, in all its silliness, can be both powerful and life-changing.
So to the more than 200 girls participating this week, be gracious to your hosts.
You aren't just entering their sorority house.
You've been invited into their home.
