The legend of Raisin is iconic and the stories that spread surrounding the famous October weekend bring another level of excitement to St Andrews. When I was deciding where to attend uni in the fall, I looked for differences in the schools I was debating between. Raisin was something no school back home in the States could offer me, and it piqued an interest. At last months of waiting for Raisin, I have finally experienced it.
A week before the event I started getting task orders from my family. Both my mom and dad wanted a bottle of alcohol whose name started with the same letter as mine; however, my dad requested it be as imaginative as possible with a promise to be nicer if it hit the mark. I scoured the internet to find something other than Smirnoff and decided on a bottle of Sailor Jerry Rum for my dad and Spirit of Louisiana for my mom. Then I was told to wear a white t-shirt I would not mind getting ruined on Sunday and a pair of mismatched shoes.
Sunday morning, I arrived at my mom’s at 9:57 on the dot and was greeted by Hawaiian theme decor and a reporter from BBC Radio Four. There were rules and mixed drinks, and we were given name tag necklaces with our accommodation location and mother’s phone number. You know, just in case. The house was adorned with leis, string covered in jam blocked the bathroom and shots were lined up along the hallway. We played boat races where I had to pass a balloon down the line in weird poses, break a condom full of water with my teeth and down a can of beer (which of course, was not pleasant). Soon it was time for the family scavenger hunt, in which we had 19 items to tick off. My team managed to get 16 and make it back on time for no punishment. Some items on the hunt included: acting out a sexual position over the PH, finding a guy with a great beard, fitting as many people as possible into a telephone booth and hula-ing down the aisles of Tesco. We made it back, had lunch, drank more and then headed over to our respective dads’ homes, where we got really, really drunk.
We were greeted with shots, then summoned into a pit in their garage where we had to down a glassful of whatever concoction we picked out of a hat, (I was ‘lucky’ enough to pick gin and lemonade, though it was mostly gin. My brother had a glass of beer, wine and gin mixed together.) Then we played a game where we had to guess which of our fathers (yup, three dads) had or had not done something, on pain of having to drink whatever was closest at hand if one answered wrong. By then everything was hitting me, and as they continued to pass along shots everyone went out of control. People were getting sick left and right; a couple of siblings committed academic incest in the kitchen, and on top of it all I even lost my necklace. Somehow I agreed to down another glass of gin with my dad, and that is where it gets hazy. I ended up stumbling back to DRA with my sister and, as I’d left everything I owned back at Dad’s, needed to have a warden let me into my room.
Monday morning, I woke up with mysterious bruises and proceeded to walk to my mom’s phone-less, starving and hungover. She dressed me as a pirate, and we headed to the father’s place one last time to get our receipt. (We basically just took out their trash: I had a plank of wood with a bag on each end full of empty glass bottles.) Finally, we headed into the battle of foam. Within seconds, I was covered and had lost everyone in my family. It was fun for about 10 minutes until I got really cold and could not see as I was so covered. Let me tell you, it gets everywhere, and it does not taste good.
Overall, Raisin was an amazing experience. I’m definitely ready for revenge next year!