Last Wednesday, Nov. 11, Vail Commons was the site of Davidson College’s first flash mob: a rave, complete with glow sticks and electronica, in the “Dark Side” of the room. Rave Eleven Eleven had been publicized widely—and enigmatically—for the two weeks leading up to the event.
Posters were strewn around campus (even tucked into napkin dispensers), announcements appeared in the Crier, a puzzling sidebar allusion popped up on the front page of The Davidsonian, a Facebook page appeared devoted to the dance (with friend requests and updates to boot) and someone chalked the campus overnight to publicize it.
But important information was withheld: Who was hosting this so-called rave? Would it be in the middle of the night? On Patterson Court? Since details were not forthcoming, rumors began to circulate: it was a fraternity event, a Ben and Jerry’s stunt, a sociology experiment. But very few students sussed out the true identity of the event planners—the twelve students of English 492, the seminar on Gossip.
As part of their semester-long investigation, these students were asked to imagine a group project that could reveal something about the operations of gossip in a closed community such as Davidson’s.
On the first day of class, they studied YouTube videos of flash mobs: events in which a large group get together in public all of a sudden and perform some choreographed activity, only to disperse just as quickly and unceremoniously. Since “flash mobs” are often arranged via email, the idea of organizing one at the college dovetailed nicely with the students’ concerns with networking and the circulation of gossip on campus.
As 11/11 approached, Sarah Bennett, Meryl Breeden, Kiki Diven, Nikki Gutierrez, Stacey Helmerich, Lizzie Hyland, Brenna Kelly, Elizabeth Lacks, Billy LeBas, Katie Miller, Amanda Whitton and Laura Zulliger worked overtime to organize the rave and drum up the gossip necessary for its success.
The rave had to have a patina of mystery: it had to be alluring in order to get people talking and curious enough to show up at the appointed hour. With everything in place—thanks in no small part to the help of Dee Philips, Director of Dining Services at Commons—all that was left to do was email the chosen flash mob with the details.
On November 10, the twelve gossip students sent out a cryptic missive that included instructions such as, “When the music stops your moves should too. Act like nothing happened and go back to your tables (nonchalance is the goal...)” The email signature—“You know you love me. Xoxo”—with its allusion to Gossip Girl, was the single clue as to the organizers’ identity.
Though the classmates sent it only to their immediate friends, the information spread rapidly. Freshmen with no discernible links to the seniors in the course knew the full details of the flash mob and were planning on participating.
With email and Facebook messages getting bandied about with viral speed, the interest seemed to grow exponentially. As students filed into Commons, the line was abuzz with expectation and excitement. People lingered in their seats, in no hurry to leave in case they missed the action.
The room was packed to capacity and, according to the CatCard reader, the number of people dining in Commons jumped from 332 students at 6 pm to over 600 at 6:50 pm. “It’s the first I’ve seen it this busy with no seats. I didn’t believe it when they told me to come and look,” Executive Chef Craig Mombert remarked.
At no other time, other than Thanksgiving Dinner, has Commons hosted so many students in such a concentrated time period. The mob was working its charm and it hadn’t even begun yet.
Meanwhile, the class members responsible for all this energy were understandably nervous. What if no one got up to dance with them and they were left alone, in the middle of Commons, fist pumping to “Sandstorm”? And for two whole minutes that would surely pass like treadmill minutes?
The indignity of it could have been completely mortifying. But as soon as Hyland and Kelly gave the cue and dropped their empty trays, hundreds of students poured over into the “Dark Side” to dance frenetically amidst the tables.
As our class looks back on the flash mob, what the event tells us about gossip at Davidson might not, finally, be as important as what it tells us about our community more broadly. To see hundreds of students check their egos at the door with their umbrellas and backpacks and let loose for two minutes was to see an exercise in solidarity.
Though it might seem a Pollyanna-ish notion, perhaps the idea we can take from the flash rave is that such enthusiasm, harnessed to other agendas, can be a kind of inspiration capable of taking us outside of ourselves and raising us to action. If we can be this efficient at organizing gossip, what else can we do?
Maria Fackler is an Assistant Professor of English and teaches the Gossip seminar.
Be the first to comment on this article!