In Defense of: Flu Season

As the last rays of summer sunshine retreat, a crescendo of coughs, hacks and snifflesrises from our lecture halls and resounds through campus. Flu season has arrived.

First and foremost, amongst the (fairly few) benefits of flu season is Frist’s annual vaccination carnival. Why carnival, you ask? Very rarely will any other season offer you the opportunity to descend into Frist’s innermost bowels. Once you’ve arrived, crisply be-scrubbed nurses, twisted/lovely housewife volunteers (and that old guy who’s auditing Constitutional Interpretation with you but doesn’t get graded just because he claims to be a member of the local community) warmly welcome you as if you were the one who invented the flu vaccine. There, you procrastinate your life away by mindlessly filling out forms, waiting in lines, schmoozing and watching “The Colbert Report” for at least 10 minutes afterwards (by command of the nurses). Even better, hopping between stations is like speed dating, without the creeper who actually approaches you for your number.

I, like many of you, don’t much like to go out every night of the week. I’ll be honest: I think it’s sort of lame. And I don’t have nearly enough stamina for that. But herein lies the beauty of the season: The flu makes you gross. Sure, your friends may respond to your “Sorry, not tonight man, I’ve got the flu” text with even more encouragement, but be warned. They’re really quite happy that they’ll be getting more lady-attention on the dance-floor tonight than your slimy influenza-ridden ass will. I even had a draft saved on my phone last year for whenever I had to whip this excuse out to stay in and watch “30 Rock.” Works like a charm.

If you’re actually fun (read: alcoholic) enough to make it out to the Street despite the excuses above, flu season guarantees that you’ve still got a few foolproof tricks (and used tissues) up your sleeve if you need them. Sick of, or about to get sick from the ghastly brew that is Beast? No worries, just say you’ve got the flu. Bumped into that kid in your Chinese class whose gender you still haven’t quite pinned down and don’t want to any time soon? You’ve got the flu. Encounter an illegal substance upstairs in Terrace that your middle school health teacher had never even heard of? Thank God you have the flu.

I think I’ve done it. I may have just managed to defend the infection period for an illness that has killed millions of people over the centuries. So, in fear of sounding insensitive, I’ll refrain from advising you to actually get the flu in order to more convincingly exploit the aforementioned excuses. Rather, here is my alternative word of wisdom to you. Never heed those pinkos who would preach the merits of holistic medicine: Do Princeton a favor and go get vaccinated. And don’t forget about those carrots they give you afterwards. Seriously, you may faint otherwise.