Star-Crossed Lovers Lock Eyes At LASA Party

Mushy true love found among dance floor debauchery.

 

Screen Shot 2013-03-13 at 12.36.02 AMBy Max Marder

He’s ISP, she’s Human Rights. But one special night, the souls of Jake Schauckinaugh (MIA ’14) and Angela Peesnik (MIA ’13) entwined as one.

“As I finished my fifth wine cooler at the Human Rights pregame, my heart began to flutter,” recalls Peesnik with nostalgia. “I had a fleeting vision, a premonition, of two figures running toward each other down an IAB corridor. I knew immediately what it meant.”

At 1:07 a.m., the DJ at Element Nightclub played “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas. “I heard those beautiful words,” Jake remembered, “and I knew that the night was in fact going to be a good good night. My destiny shone in front of me like light refracting off a gold sequin dress.”

Then he saw her. “She had a white rose in her hair,” Jake reminisced. “I could see it clearly despite the epileptic strobe light and the clouds of steam rising off of my sweaty classmates. It was mutually assured attraction.”

Peesnik had a different reaction at first. “I’m usually not into ISP boys,” she said. “They’re all so realist. I want a guy that’s an ally, but I suspected he just saw me as an interest. Guys like him are barrel-chested, square-jawed bros who just want to shoot people and chew tobacco, or ‘chaw,’ or whatever. But then, looking into his war-weary eyes, peace through strength started to seem a lot more plausible. It was a Nixon-in-China moment. He was Nixon. I was China.”

A group of Peesnik’s girlfriends noted her furtive glances disapprovingly. Bri Clemenceau (MIA ’14) was strongly opposed, burdened with the responsibility to protect Peesnik from Schauckinaugh’s aggressive advances. “I told her, ‘Don’t do it, girl. Your identities have been mutually constructed to oppose each other.’”

Schauckinaugh faced similar pressure from his fellow ISPers. “They were all like, ‘Dude. Human Rights? No way man, she probably believes in international law and strongly worded letters.’”

At that moment, at the LASA president’s request, the DJ began to play a song by Colombian artist Shakira.

Schauckinaugh, gazing through an amorphous tangle of body parts and general debauchery, took another look at Peesnik and knew, without a doubt, that her hips were telling the truth.

This article appeared in the Mar. 12, 2013 print version of The Morningside Post.

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Max Marder is a second-year Master of International Affairs candidate at the Columbia University School of International and Public Affairs and the editor-at-large of the Morningside Post. You can find him on Twitter @maxamarder

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