Here we observe the Haverbro in the wild. He’s far from home, having ventured from his safe environs to search Bryn Mawr for food, garlic knots in particular. He has no idea what he’s ventured into. 

First, he finds himself confronted by the parade through campus. Utterly confounded, he wonders if Pride has always taken place in April. Furthermore, he believed Pride normally had something to do with rainbows. He shrugged. This Haverbro has been confused before and lived to tell the tale.

Next, the Haverbro is faced with a sudden fear: everyone else is dressed in white. Was there some sort of theme to this party? Had he not been told? This ratio was incredible, he couldn’t afford to waste it because he was out of theme. And what was with these flower crowns?! Our protagonist was dreadfully upset no one had bothered to give HIM a flower crown and thought this situation should be rectified at once. 

On his way to find the source of flower crown distribution, the wild Haverbro stumbles upon something truly frightening. People were eating some sort of snack: strawberries and cream. “Where was the protein?” He cried. “How is anyone supposed to get any gains!” No wonder this was eaten by British people at tennis matches, he thought to himself. Fortunately for him, he had some pre-workout, which he quickly sprinkled upon his snack. Now he could enjoy his strawberries and cream.  

He was just about to bite into his pre-workout and strawberries and cream when he let out a scream. He saw a most frightful sight. A horde of Bryn Mawrtians dancing around a mysterious pole. Now he was well and truly scared. “Their form is atrocious!” He thought to himself. While our Haverbro had never frolicked around a maypole like a small Swedish child, if he had, he was convinced that he would do it better, faster, and certainly stronger. “If the Lax team had a pole, we’d be killing it right now,” he thought.

Suddenly, the Haverbro realized where he recognized this before. All was understood in a flash of terrible understanding. “By Jove!” He exclaimed. “It’s like that one movie! The really fucking weird one. What was it called?” He couldn’t remember the name of Midsommar, but knew he had to leave immediately. And so our hero rapidly fled, lest he be stuffed into a bear and lit on fire.