They come in hordes, or maybe more like herds of confused, unassuming sheep. For the most part they have no idea where they are – North Campus, South Campus, the Rock, Tech and Norris are just empty squares on the Day at NU map.

These little sheep full of energy and extracurriculars have never sampled a tasty SAGA snack and never sipped jungle juice at a fraternity party. They’ve certainly never done a Dillo Day. They have yet to rush the Greek scene (or denounce it), paint the Rock, skip class, fight their way through Sheridan Road’s 100-mph winds, and drunkenly marvel at our football team’s fumbles.

It happens every year. Sometime in late April, they take over campus and fill your dorm rooms. No one really wants them, but they still show up at your door.

Knock, knock. ... Who’s there? ... It’s your prospie.

There he is, standing in your room with a nervous smile and an overnight bag in hand. You don’t know him, nor do you want to. Most likely you guys have nothing in common. Despite that, everything is “great” – have a fantastic night of awkward fun.

Although prospies come in all shapes and sizes, like everyone else, they tend to fit into certain categories. (Here at NUcomment, we really love to stereotype.) There are always exceptions, but most seem to fit into the following four molds: the non-drinker, the lost soul, the overly confident kid and the impressive partier.

The Non-Drinker

To start off, there’s really nothing more amusing than the luck of the quiet non-drinker prospie getting placed in Bobb. One thing is clear: nothing good is coming out of this night.

Exhibit A: During a recent prospie weekend, a Bobb freshman host, who goes by the name “Kegstand,” was determined to show her prospie from Wisconsin a good time.

“I asked her if she wanted to see anything. I showed her SPAC, Tech and some other places. She seemed impressed by Tech Express,” Kegstand said.

The two strolled over to D & D and bought a cube of Icehouse and five Mickey’s (malt liquor). The prospie wasn’t so much interested in the alcohol, but more with all her unanswered questions about the BME program and residential colleges. Later that night, as the beers came uncapped in a crowded Bobb dorm room, the prospie revealed that she didn’t drink.

“Is there anything fun to do at this school if you don’t drink?” she asked.

“Yeah, a lot of stuff,” Kegstand replied. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything but a capella shows. After that conversation, the prospie exited the room and made a phone call.

“Even though she brought her suitcase and sleeping bag, her mom suddenly had to pick her up so she could go to work early in the morning,” Kegstand said. “She left me with my good friend ‘Mickey’ to drown my sorrows as the worst host ever.”

“But, after I thought about it for a while,” she continued, “I realized by getting rid of people like her, I was systematically ‘coolening’ the Northwestern campus one case at a time.”

The Lost Soul

Then there’s that prospie who is always lost. Whether his host ditched him or he just drunkenly wandered off down Sheridan Road, you can always find the lost prospie drunk and walking aimlessly, mumbling to any passerby, “Do you know where I am?”

Exhibit B: Adrian Adkison, a Tech freshman, recently ended his prospie night without his prospie. He had a good time out at the bars, but somewhere between the fifth and sixth sake-bombs, Adkison lost sight of and interest in his prospie. He left the poor prospie at the bar by himself. Adkison found his way home and happily went to sleep.

“He had to call the police because he didn’t know where he was,” Adkison said. “He was real pissed at me.”

[Earlier in the year, on a different prospie night, Adkison did stay with his prospie for the entire evening. Unfortunately, that time he got the prospie so drunk that after returning to his Bobb dorm room, the prospie urinated all over Adkison’s roommate’s printer.]

The Overly Confident Kid

Here comes the ultra ballsy prospie who thinks he is way too cool for school. You’ve seen him before, trying to hit on senior girls, double fisting bottles of Beefeater and Bacardi, yelling, and maybe eventually getting his ass kicked. You may have even seen him selling speed at the Deuce. ...

Exhibit C: About a month ago, a prospie from New York made a miserable attempt to sell amphetamines at the Deuce. One would assume that a high school student with enough balls to push drugs to strangers around an unfamiliar bar would be slick about his shady dealings. Sadly, this was not the case. The transaction took place about five to10 feet from the door, in clear sight of the bouncer. The prospie was booted out of the Mark II with a quickness.

“I was just pissed because that mishap brought a closure to my night,” the drug dealing prospie said. “It was my first time at a bar and I would have liked to have partied more, met some more girls, and gotten more drunk. When I was selling the drugs, I was just thinking about making some money, and I was excited about that.” Idiot.

The Impressive Partier

Once in a while, there’s that prospie who is quite possibly much cooler than you. He gets along with all your friends and by the end of the night they wind up liking your prospie more than they like you. Throughout the evening, this prospie may very well drink your ass under the table and then smoke you up.

Exhibit D: A Medill freshman explained that while partying at a fraternity house with his friend from summer camp during his prospie night last year, his hosts were amazed with his impressive blazing skills. He said the frat guys stared at them with widened eyes and continuously made comments like, “Oh my God, you guys take the biggest bong hits I’ve ever seen.”

Hosts are not supposed to be outdone by their prospies. When this happens, the host most likely finds himself reevaluating his confidence.

Really, no one ever wants a prospie. It’s like renting a child for a day, but even worse it’s a teenager. Prospies either have nothing to say or too much to say; they don’t drink at all or they get too wasted. And although they provide us with amusement and ageless stories, they also piss on your roommate’s printer.

NUcomment has officially taken Jeff Potter’s magazine writing virginity. Congratulate him on becoming a man, j-potter@northwestern.edu.