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Photo courtesy American Festivals Project via Flickr

Almost every community has some event to celebrate spring.  These events often involve absurd amounts of alcohol. Which brings me to central Virginia’s version of the event: The Foxfield Races, an absolutely perfect recipe for alcohol poisoning, heat stroke, and the best Saturday ever.  In fact, it’s this Saturday, and even though I’ve graduated and will feel old and creepy, I will relish attending and drinking among the legions of preppy UVA kids.

I love Foxfield because it highlights what it means to be a college student in America today.  It also highlights what huge douchebags UVA students are.  Amidst the pink polos, the bowties, the public urination, and the testy cops you can see a generation of middle class students who are approaching a liminal state.  They all affect the sheen of what they expect the upper class lifestyle must look like.  Foxfield attendees aspire to class but wind up as trash as the day gradually degenerates into a drunken mess of multiple frat boy hookups in port-a-johns and other unsavory incidents.  With so many easy hookup choices, how can one possibly fit them all into one day?!

But this is what our generation does now; even though I use the evil and distant “they,” I’m one of “them.” We value style over substance.  We go to college to come out with a degree and a network—and a lot of hazy memories.  A study recently published in the Washington Post suggests my generation is the only one who doesn’t consider itself hardworking.  Which is true.  And on this Saturday, all of that non-hard work will be rewarded with—finally!—a day of relaxation in the sun.

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