heart
Andrew McDonnell
Scene Writer
Not to jinx all of Northern Indiana, but it appears that after months of Mother Nature playing the role of fickle goddess, we may finally be done with the snow. Spring is surely rearing its beautiful head in delicate intervals. As Robert Penn Warren might say, that honey-lipped, sparkly eyed, orbish-eared wood nymph, the one with the jaundiced fingertips, Spring, is surely trotting nimbly through the forest Ôtwixt the lakes.
This can mean only one thing at Notre Dame: That is, a big, fat, howling lie. This can mean many things, but one of the many things that it can mean is the approach of AnTostal, or An Tostal, the Gaelic festival of the Spring, celebrated annually at Notre Dame as finals time approaches.
The AnTostal tradition at Notre Dame actually dates back to 1968 when a small group of students developed the goal of creating an event designed to blow off a load of steam before students subject themselves to the prickly rigors of studying for final exams. The festival began on a fairly small scale, but eventually grew to tremendous proportions by the mid-70s and continues to exist to this very day. The big question about AnTostal today, to paraphrase a song featured in the cult classic ÒThe Big LebowskiÓ is: What condition is its condition in?
Here are a few examples of what you would have found at the 1978 AnTostal celebration.
A keg-toss competition on South Quad is one prime example. This was eliminated after the 1988 event when an 18-year-old prospective student was seriously injured by an ill-thrown keg. In front of Cushing. Cushing Hall of Engineering. People were throwing empty kegs in front of Cushing Hall of Engineering. The face of campus has changed so completely that the mere possibility of a keg toss at modern-day Notre Dame has just been eradicated from the realm of possible thought.
Earlier AnTostals also featured a slew of mud-pit activities. There was mud volleyball, a tug of war that concluded with the losers being dragged into the mess, mud pillow fights, a snake race through the mud and best of all, a Ben-Hur Chariot Race through the mud.
They used to have a can-stacking contest on South Quad. The team of four whose stack rose to the greatest height won the numbers of beers that their stack was composed of. And there was a carnival. There was a carnival, with a ferris wheel, tilt-a-whirl, Hurricane, game booths and real live, small hands, smell-like-cabbage Carnies.
In the 1977 AnTostal, hundreds of ping-pong balls were rained down on campus from an airplane, some of which had numbers that qualified the finder for prizes from local merchants. It was overall a very cool affair.
In recent years, though, the frenzy has definitely developed a much softer, lamer edge. Last yearÕs AnTostal, in particular, was probably an all-time low. Very few people interviewed could even remember a single event from last yearÕs spring fling, but those who could were beyond unimpressed. Senior J.P. Montufar reflects, ÒAnTostal goes to Hollywood? What kind of @%% &@!! $#^* name is that?Ó
Off-campus Biz McShane expressed similar sentiments, ÒAnTostal is one of those weeks that you mark on your calendar as something important and then it passes and you donÕt even notice.Ó
Senior Matt Quirion places the decline of AnTostal within a personal perspective we can all relate to: ÒLately, AnTostal has been a lot like my birthday. You spend all spring getting excited about your parents getting you the G.I. Joe Aircraft Carrier, but when you open your gifts, you find out that they got you a NERF football instead because it was less expensive and had no small parts that you could swallow. ThatÕs how AnTostal has gotten. They have almost no money, and the powers-that-be will not allow anything that could be Ôrisky,Õ so I guess weÕre stuck with ÔNERF-likeÕ AnTostal events. I hate NERF.Ó
All I can personally remember of last yearÕs madness was walking past a card table set up by Stonehenge that said something to the effect of, ÒHow many Oreos can you fit in your mouth at one time?Ó May God have mercy on us all.
The drop in last yearÕs quality is apparently due Ñ at least in part Ñ to an abuse of funds that occurred during the debacle that was AnTostal of two years ago. Free pizzas and cheeseburgers flew in all directions, mashed potato fights erupted, sumo wrestling exploded onto the scene, and there was a laser tag event set up in one of those inflatable Moonwalky thingamajiggers which was apparently quite a bit of fun. The only problem was that the event cost twice as much as the planning committee was budgeted, so, while it was the best AnTostal in recent memory, it was also the source of the worst AnTostal in recent, but very fuzzy, memory.
Another reason for the lackluster nature of recent festivities is, of course, the usual amount of impenetrable red tape that coils itself around an already gasping campus. The mud pits were apparently dismissed for health and liability reasons, the keg-toss was history after the horrible accident and Jell-O pits have apparently been deemed unacceptably risky.
This brings us to today. What does this yearÕs AnTostal hold for Notre Dame? Well, IÕm positively hog-tied if I know, because I could not get a hold of AnTostal Chair Jeff Milligan in whatever secret lair it is that he frequents. Well, on the day that this article was written anyway. My bad. Regardless, the scrap of information I do have about this yearÕs events is not wholly promising, and hails from the SUB Website. The blurb states ominously:
ÒComing Soon ... AnTostal!
April 25 - 27th
Bouncy toys, miniature golf, T-shirts, food, bands, movies, a dance party ... need I say more? Come out and join the fun!Ó
Sarcastic reaction No. 1: Jeepers! Gee willikers, I hope the bouncy toys are extra bouncy this year!
Sarcastic reaction No. 2: You need say a lot more!
Sarcastic response No. 3: IÕll come out and enjoy your AuntieÕs fun!
The last of which doesnÕt really make any sense, but is very innuendo-y, and always good for a laugh. Or a sharp blow to the head.
Regardless, some Notre Dame students remain optimistic about the annual visitation of AnTostal upon this misty, grass-engorged campus. Students such as Burt Binefield. ÒMy favorite parts of the AnTostals of days gone by involve the budding of springtime sexual prowess.Ó But who wants to put faith in optimism when itÕs so much easier to be cynical? Ignore Burt Binefield.
AnTostal has a long way to go to regain its past gory glory, and this year will probably not be the year. In fact, the world we live in may have slipped into such a deep, impersonal, legalistic pit of uptight, unyielding paranoia that the glory may never return. But I say, let us find hope in ourselves. Let us make of AnTostal what we can. Where there be mud, let us there wallow. Where there be free food, let us there dine. As the earth awakens and warmth begins to once more permeate our souls, let us live in the spirit of the Irish, and all that AnTostal is. Let Notre Dame follow the words of Irish Poet Martin Walsh when he said quite famously, ÒN'l aon bobil'n agat.Ó The land will lead, let us follow.
The opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Scene Stories for Wednesday, April 19, 2000
