Written by Jess Ardrey
A bustling stage. White-hot lights. Costumes in colors you’ve never seen before.
Elaborate hairstyles. Glitter covering every single orifice.
No,you haven’t walked into a Vegas venue. Cher isn’t about to prance onto the scene.This is much bigger.
This. Is Spring Sing.
Oh, yes. It’s that magical time of year when the birds are singing, the bees are buzzing and social clubs (and friends) are busting a collective move.
You always know when Spring Sing is on its way. The weather changes, the pollen descends and people start to get crazy.
Flu shot. Check. Allergy meds. Got ’em. Asthma steroids. Every day. My box of medications overfloweth. The one thing it lacks, however, is the vaccine for Spring Fever.
Students flock to the front lawn to read, play Ultimate Frisbee and lie out in the sunshine, despite the wicked tan lines one gets from tanning in Harding-appropriate attire.
That is, until 7 o’clock. Bros, grab your now-sleeveless function tees. Bettys, pull on your leggings and shorts, and don’t forget to sport your ponytails and headbands.It’s business time. It’s Spring Sing practice.
It started in January, for the lucky ones. Since then, you’ve become a well-oiled machine, much to the painstaking work of the directors. (Seriously, you couldn’t pay me to … Oh, what’s that you say? You’ve got a chicken biscuit with my name on it? You drive a hard bargain, sir …)
You never thought you’d sing lyrics about cowboys and Indians to a Bon Jovi song, much less accidentally sing them instead of the real words two years later.You’ve timed your go-point in the ripple with precise science. You’ve perfected the step-ball-change. You know what a step-ball-change is.
You’re a new animal. But be forewarned,once a song is used in your Spring Sing show, it’s ruined. Well, maybe not ruined, per se, but I can assure you that I can no longer hear “Chain Hang Low”without thinking about gangster elephants. Gangster elephants. That’s just ridiculous.
It also means that literally five years from now, a song in this year’s show will come on the radio and you will turn to the nearest person, excitedly tell them about the song, and then proceed to explain the minute details of the whole production, including the time Lisa totally started that ripple a whole measure early, how embarrassing.
And that’s probably the best part of Spring Sing, the memories. Of course those routines to Britney Spears numbers won’t come in handy in the real world. You knew that coming in. It will definitely help with your people skills, however. Nothing could be worse than putting on a happy face to that kid in front of you during the final number who you’re certain hasn’t showered since spring break.
That’s what makes coming back special. Alumni have been there. They’ve had the called-at-the-last- minute practices. They’ve worn the atrocious costumes. They’ve walked down the sidewalk preceded by a wave of hairspray to make that bouffant stay perfectly cemented in place. However, that may have just been because it was the 1970s.
Now it might be the fumes, but with my flair for the clairvoyant, I foresee Harding in a legal battle. The cause of the conflict? The long string of lawsuits brought against HU because of glitter-induced blindness.
Seriously.That stuff is no joke.My freshman year, I lived on a hall that also housed some girls in the Zeta Rho show. The girls’ shoes were covered with the red stuff. For days, weeks even, I found myself inexplicably dotted with red glitter.
But all sparkles aside, love it or hate it, Spring Sing is a good time. So go ahead. Put on your Keds. Tie up your hair. Slather on that bright red lipstick.
But for the love of all things holy, keep that glitter away from me.
JESS ARDREY serves as the opinions editor for the 2010-2011 Bison. She may be contacted atjardrey@harding.edu
