Woosh! What is that? Is it a bird? A plane? An oddball stringer on angel dust running across the highways of America in a taste the rainbow thong? Could it even be Mike Posner on Kratom listening to a Mike-Posner-On-Kratom guided meditation? No, it’s your crush. From 106B. She wears paisley. She listens to music exclusively on massive earphones – one could never get their words heard through those bulky chastity ear muffs. Sometimes you see her in LateNight. But what makes her so irresistible this time? Well, for one, she’s dropped her bike in favor of the newest, oldest dance trend, the ‘grapevine’.

It happened three weeks ago. In a newly enhanced bid for fun hitting Stanford with the force of an enraged swan’s mouth around a torsion-ripened testicle, the grapevine has made a resurgence. We all remember it from gym class. We all remember how amazing we looked. Now, on Wednesdays, we grapevine.

Through Coho, I traipse, knocking over spare orders. I grapevined all throughout Green Library, and everyone admired me for how incredibly suave and irresistible I was. Through the newly re-opened biking circle near White Plaza, we join our hands and grapevine Midsommar style. As far as humpday breeze goes, upon its feathered opulence, the sweat of thousands of students is the background fragrance. As we adopt this new tradition, old walking purists may shake their heads with despair, but fear not. A rigorous grapevine on Wednesdays: from Stern to the Row, from Memchu to GovCo – there is no way better to travel than in style.

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