Last weekend I made a mistake that was second only to not accepting Kate Upton’s marriage proposal: I failed to attend Lafayette’s first ever Derby Day. I would’ve strutted my stuff in my plaid button-down, khakis, and boat shoes (no socks of course), an outfit I’m sure was unique to the day. The lineup for the day’s activities sounded incredible. There was badminton, tennis’ nerdier younger brother. I love that sport. I would’ve had an ostentatious racket flipping the birdie at my opponents. There was bocce ball, a game that’s a mix between bowling and curling; two “sports” that are highly respected here in the U.S.

I heard they served hot dogs. I would’ve expected them to have the entire pig on a spit roasting on a grand bonfire right in the middle of the Quad. I would say they used all the money on the tablecloths, but they didn’t have those either.

Lastly, there was the prime rib of the entire spectacle. There was a croquet tournament. And finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for: the time when I could pretend to be a part of the English aristocracy. I would finally have a legit reason for owning a top hat and tailcoat. Alas, I missed it along with the beheadings that go along with any good croquet tourney, or so Alice in Wonderland taught me. Participation in the tournament awarded a stylish Vineyard Vines headpiece. I would’ve loved nothing more than to walk around with Moby Dick’s girlfriend on my head. I tip my hat to student government, who organized the event. I’m sure it was a smashing good time…come to think of it, if I wanted to hit a couple of balls with a hammer, I could’ve just stayed in bed.