Twas the night before playground…

Twas the night before Playground, and all through the town,
The students of Bloomington shed cap and gown.
Finals forgotten, the week cast away,
For a mythic blowout was coming their way.
At 1100 North Eagleson stood,
A house of pure legend, of chaos and good.
Beta Theta Pi, with a grin ear to ear,
Had summoned a party to crown the whole year.
Fifteen more frats, and the sororities too,
Had answered the call — it was the thing to do.
A kaleidoscope crowd, a fast-rising beat,
With sandals and glitter and no time for sleep.
The banners were hung from the rooftop with flair,
"Welcome to Playground!" they flapped in the air.
The yard was a jungle of bodies and sound,
With music and laughter that shook the whole ground.
Unlimited beers flowed like magical streams,
TWEA in their cups, fueling wildest of dreams.
Cans popped like fireworks, cheers filled the sky,
And nobody stopped asking: “Is this real life or why?”
The DJs were posted on top of the roof,
Dropping basslines so hard they could loosen your tooth.
And kegs spun like planets in orbital dance,
While strangers made friends in a single brief glance.
Glow sticks like comets flew over the lawn,
And legends were born before breaking of dawn.
Pledges and seniors, all danced in one throng,
To an anthem of youth, three days long and strong.
The fire-breathing juggler lit up the night,
As Beta's backyard turned dayglo and bright.
A slip 'n slide stretched to dimensions unknown,
Where toga-clad mortals turned party to throne.
No rules, just freedom, no clocks on the wall,
Just spirit and speakers and beer for us all.
And whispers began: “This must be the spot
Where gods go to party when earth gets too hot.”
So if ever you doubt what wild legends are true,
Just look to the street where the street signs are blue.
For once every year, the stars all align—
And Playground returns, one more magical time