Eager as I was to return to our Big Green home, I found myself desperately fending off the impending sense of responsibility nagging at the back of my six-week-hibernated brain. But in regards to these "responsibilities," I'm pretty sure I've reached the final step of the five stages of grief (see freshman fall grades): acceptance. Right? It's not like it's the end of the world or anything.
On that note, I'm personally of the school of thought that we are so not out of the woods yet. I always knew it was a good idea to invest in those survivalist make-a-house-out-of-a-tree-trunk classes. Anyway, for those of you who blew off the Mayan predictions, I present to you (drumroll please) "Dart-pocalypse Survival Stars," the products and resources Dartmouth students feel they couldn't live without, even at the end of the world.
The Dartmouth Outing Club
You pretty much unanimously agreed that the DOC would be the first stop en route to shelter. I gotta say wise choice! With events like Trips and The 50, the DOC seems to have been founded for the sole purpose of long-term, short-supply wilderness survival.
With its stock of portable stoves and tarps, the DOC would be a great apocalyptic resource, Patrick Gould '14 said.
"I would stop by the DOC, and maybe Collis afterward for some non-perishable foods," he said. "Then I'd probably go to the Ledyard Canoe Club and kayak away."
Indeed, the Connecticut River does seem to be a good thing to put between yourself and an apocalypse.
iProducts
Call me crazy, but personally, if I could only bring one thing with me on this mad escapade, it would be my iPhone. Hungry? Need a map? There's an app for that. Want to track how many calories you're burning whilst dashing through the forest? There's an app for that. Have no friends? That's what Siri is for. (Am I the only one that does that?) Anyway, better download those apocalypse apps while you've still got Wi-Fi. Even leader Laura Cressman '14 is banking on her iPad's powers over hardy DOC gear.
"Realistically, I honestly don't know if I could outrun a zombie mob," she said. "But I could record my voice on my iPad and throw it somewhere to distract them."
Pong Tables
Sleek, sturdy and versatile, the beloved pong table is the Swiss Army knife of post-apocalyptic survival. In the case of a winter apocalypse, while others trudge wearily through the snow, double your closest pong table as a sled. Note: seats up to six; keep hands and feet in the vehicle at all times.
While the benefits of a pong table in a post-apocalyptic world are undeniable, Lauren Harris '16 notes the impracticality of lugging one through the forest.
"Bringing a pong table is genius if you've got a friend strong enough to carry it," she said. "Or you could channel your inner lumberjack and make it into firewood instead."
However, for those opting for defensive strategies rather than fleeing the scene, a pong table could be worth its weight. Should there be falling objects, simply prop a pong table against any surface for instant shelter.
"The end of the world would probably be a pretty bleak place," Cressman said. "I could use a pong table to build a fort, or at least keep myself entertained."
Lest the old traditions fail in the post-apocalyptic world, these foundations of civilization DOC gear, iPhones and a couple sturdy pong tables make for a great start in rebuilding dear old Dartmouth.
Raw Meat
Sounds gross, but this may come in handy when you've got the carnivorous creatures from "Prometheus" hot on your heels. After you pick up your packs from the DOC, be sure to hit up Collis for some raw meat (or mozzarella sticks) to throw Gollum off your tracks.
Keggy the Keg
There appears to be some debate regarding the value of hauling (rolling?) Keggy over the hills of New Hampshire. On the one hand, I appreciate the sentiment, but on the other, a tub of (apple) cider could seriously impede one's ability to flee a zombie invasion. Alternative uses of Keggy include stuffing him with non-Keystone sustenance or wearing him for warmth, according to Gould.
Regardless of where your materialistic priorities lie, one thing is for certain: we'll bring Dartmouth with us wherever 'round the girdled Earth we roam. We'll grow unreasonably attached to eateries besides KAF, and we'll be bored at places other than Baker-Berry. Whether it's because living in the middle of nowhere has exacerbated our reliance on cool Apple tech, or because living in the middle of nowhere has prepared us for wilderness survival, I'd like to believe that we would be more or less inclined to face the apocalypse in true Dartmouth fashion: always classy, sometimes sassy but never trashy.
