Amanda Reed Has to DIE

One of my first ever college-adventure-post was about Noise Parade. With a comforting symmetry, a synopsis of my second RKSK sponsored cacophony will follow. First, some fancy-shmancy information about noise parade! It began as a protest about how the Reed endowment was invested, called "The Racket Against Apartheid." Here is the editor of Reed Magazine, who helps out with the Quest more than we deserve, talking about it. It has lost all political significance of note, and now it serves to initiate the freshmen into the idea of a Reed Party. Or the Reed lifestyle. It's a rude awakening of an unbelievable magnitude.

The Hum Play cast, of which I was a part, has the honor of performing a ritual after the parade around campus has happened. When I received the fateful email which gave me the role of Amanda Reed, I screamed. I screamed a lot. Then I proceeded to fail to explain to my parents why I was excited. Finally I just broke down and told them that I would essentially be naked, painted white, and yelling rhymes at a large crowd. They understood. They understood in a shake-head-what-have-we-raised kind of way, but they understood.

Once at Reed, I totally failed to memorize my lines. I forgot about a rehearsal, had my phone silenced, and eventually sprinted to the front lawn 15 minutes late. I wouldn't call it an auspicious beginning. But once we all sang our Hum Play warm up songs, cursed the damn bitch who stole our man, and pretended to be Richard Nixon, Jimmy Carter, and Theodore Roosevelt in quick succession, the magic came back. You simply can't spend 80+ hours creating a play with a group of people and not have an automatic dynamic that you fall back into. Soon, we were chanting in broken unison, kneeling and jumping when told to, and shouting liberal Reed propaganda to the empty field.

Empty, but for one stranger. There was a man in his 50s playing on the swing set. Playing may be an understatement, he was owning the swing set. He went as high as one could, all while twisting and spinning through the air. We cheered, impressed by his antics. That was a highlight of rehearsal.

Before Noise parade, we congregated in the Quad. I was stripped and two people painted all of my white while I attempted to join in on some of the warm up cursing. Fully ghostified, we rehearsed again. Unfortunately, the chanting still fell short of unison. I had ripped the important monologue, taken directly from Amanda Reed's will, from my copy of the script and taped it to the megaphone. Someone the year before had taped on a different part of the ritual. That made it easier on me, but no one else had that luxury. The directors were worried. Everyone was nervous. But then Noise Parade was ready for us, regardless of if we were ready for it. We downed a 40 in the women's bathroom before running out to start the festivities.

The shouting began. I cheated with the megaphone, running around with a sheet tied over my shoulders. It did little to conceal my role in the affair, not to mention my body, but I wouldn't have sat out for anything. I trilled and yelled and screamed and spoke and sang into the megaphone, skipping and dancing through the crowd of confused freshmen and elated upperclassmen. I would stop strangers and friends alike, and expectantly hold the megaphone to their lips. Some people yelled immediately. Some people looked at me quizzically before understanding. Others withdrew, unwilling to contribute. I tried not to shame those people excessively. Caught up in the hullaballoo, I ferried the megaphone from reveler to reveler as if it were a sacred duty from Bacchus himself.

Then the parade started. The crowd milled out of the quad and left the hum players to their last, desperate rehearsal. I crouched under the sheet on the picnic table, the alcohol heating my extremities, and my heart pounding. I burst from beneath my invisibility cloak at the cue, the headrushes becoming more intense each time we ran the beginning. Suddenly the crowd was back, and I covered up for the last time.

Flanked by the rest of Hum Play MMXIII, I listened to the noise die down as they chanted "Amanda Reed has to die" on bended knee, gently quieting to the masses. The directors begged and ordered the crowd to be silent. I sat under a sheet, crouched over my megaphone, waiting for the cue. The signal was given, and the people directly to my right and left stood, and yelled "AMANDA REED HAS TO DIE." The rest followed suit. The chanting built. The last verse cued me to stand:

"Amanda Reed has come to Reed has come to fund a college now!"

I threw off the sheet, and stood quickly, holding the megaphone up to my lips at full volume. I said the first line "An institution of learning..." then my eyes went black and I swayed. "Oh my god" I said into the megaphone. A headrush for the ages. As the crowd came back into view, they cheered at my slip-up. I continued, reading from the cheat sheet. "...having for its object the increase and diffusion of knowledge among the citizens of said City of Portland, and for the promotion of literature,
intellectual and moral culture, the cultivation and development of fine arts, and education
for the people.”

The rest of the cast and I chanted about my impending death, the future of Reed, the will of Reed, etc.The trustees came out, and threatened to make us a big school, a trade school. We screamed at the audience, did they want to go to trade school? No, they roared back. They wanted to go to this school. Foster came out in gold hot pants and fairy wings, squeaking a falsetto promise to build a small college on crystal springs farm. Keezer came forth to threaten us, saying nothing breeds nothing and Reed was broke. Scholz stepped to the foreground, a massive cardboard effigy of the Odyssey in his arms. With this formidable weapon, he beat back the evil Keezer. "Scholz gave his fire, poured his life out for Reed Scholz gave up all for the college's need. Do you want a taste of the fire of Reed? Here is the fire , the fire you need!" The fire came in the form of libations of booze, the fire that gives your night life, and coffee, the fire that wakes you at night.

We neared the climax: "You are Reed, Reed is us, with faith we believe, Reed College is possible."

Then the end, with fists thrust in the air : "Become a Reed and Reed will live and Reed will live Forever!"

On "Forever" a bucket of red corn syrup was poured over my head. The sweet 'blood' dripped down my white body and stuck my hair to my scalp. The ritual was over.

The Odyssey burned in the fire. The drum corps beat chaotically. I ran to ODB to shower. The rest of the night was also good, but I'll maybe write about that some other time. For now, Amanda Reed is dead, and Reed lives.