Long Island Night Overcrowded, Sweaty, Not Fun Anymore

When I was a first-year, Wednesday night at The Feve felt like some mythical mirage of upperclassmen heaven. It was exclusive, a forbidden wonderland, a place my friends and I dared not enter for fear of expulsion or the sideways grimace of some cool, tattooed fourth-year. We stayed within the confines of Marg Night, pushing our bodies against windowsills and squeezing dozens of people between Lupitas’ small, lacquered booths. Maybe we grossly overestimated the fun happening through the warmly-lit, second-floor windows of The Feve, or maybe the dream of Long Island Night has dissipated as we’ve gotten older. Or maybe, just maybe, the fun has gone downhill. 

College fourth-year Jocelyn Blockinger feels that The Feve has become too crowded. By the time 10 p.m. rolls around, she finds herself in a sweaty mass of strangers.

“I feel like I used to turn around and see friends everywhere but now I just don’t know anyone,” she said. “I’ve just lost my credit card and been berated by strangers after taking my sweet time in the bathroom too many times. Not to mention, I can’t rationalize waiting 30–45 minutes for a drink that I know will make my old, tired body unhappy in the morning.”

Blockinger says the Thursday after Long Island Night has become one of her least favorite days of the week. Maybe, for fourth-year students like Blockinger, weekday drinking has just lost its glamor. 

“I’m not myself,” Blockinger said. “My ‘hangxiety’ rages as I walk through King [Building] at 9:30 a.m., terrified to stop and talk to a passerby or, worse, a professor. The hangover just isn’t worth the experience. I blame it on the first- and second-years.”

Since Lupitas ended its weekly dollar-margarita deal, The Feve has become the town’s sole hotspot on weekdays. Coupled with the enforcement of ObieSafe policies at Splitchers, once the most popular destination on Wednesday nights, Long Island Night has now become the only place to grab a midweek drink with friends. While The Feve may have represented a sophisticated upperclassmen haven in years past, now it feels like the entire campus is vying for a table. 

College fourth-year Malcolm Seymour-Jones, who strictly orders a scotch-neat whenever he goes to Long Island Night, blames The Feve’s jam-packed atmosphere on the lack of splitching.

“Now that Splitchers doesn’t serve alcohol and ObieSafe requires students to wear masks inside, there isn’t a draw,” Seymour-Jones said. “Now, people just stay really late at The Feve instead of going to dance at The ’Sco. Long Island Night starts crowded and ends crowded. It’s packed; there’s just nowhere else to go.” 

Last week, Seymour-Jones, dead sober, got lost in a sea of second-years. His friends had to pull him out of the chaos. One of those friends, College fourth-year Milo Hume, said that was the moment he realized things had gotten out of hand. Although he wants to, he can’t bring himself to sympathize with younger students.

“I want to get it — really, I do,” Hume said. “But, at the same time, I don’t care that they don’t have Marg Night or that Splitchers isn’t as fun. That’s not my problem. I paid my dues. I cried at Splitchers. I got rejected at Marg Night. I’ve been there. And now it’s my Feve time, and I can’t let them ruin it for me. So to the young ones, I say: go get some frickin’ Orloff and go drink it in your frickin’ Kahn double. Pay your time. Pay your dues. And get off my Feve.”

Blockinger agrees, issuing a cry to revolution.

“This travesty is the result of poor choices and lack of underclassmen supervision,” Blockinger began. “This must end. Viva Lupitas! Fourth-years, we ask of you: why idly stand by and watch our traditions fall by the wayside? We must take action. We must reclaim Lupitas as our own. The tepid waters behind the bar at The Feve have tried their hardest to weather the freshman storm, though nothing could have prepared them for the rapture of peeling, fake Arizona driver’s licenses.”

Despite all this talk, rest assured you will see all of these people at The Feve come Wednesday. No one knows where the thrill has gone, but we all go every week, hoping to reignite the spark.