Over 1,000 women were accepted into sororities during Bid Day on Sunday evening
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There was a certain quiet on the Horseshoe around 2:30 p.m. Sunday. A few guys threw a football, birds warbled lazily and a small crew built balloon archways.
Call it the calm before the storm.
An hour later, that quiet had passed. In its place, whistles, chants and air horns resounded through the heart of campus.
It was Bid Day, and sorority women streamed onto the Horseshoe, donning colored T-shirts and tall socks, bearing noisemakers, silly string and gobs of glitter.
"You only throw glitter when you're happy," said Julia Sexton, a second-year political science student and a member of Kappa Delta sorority, "and there's glitter everywhere."
They were joined in short order by their sisters-to-be, who gathered by the McKissick Museum and stood gathered in circles with their hands behind their backs. They faced outward, and sorority members handed each a T-shirt. Many closed their eyes in anticipation, some bounced excitedly and others more stoically looked forward and breathed deeply. They were waiting to see their shirts, which bore their new sororities' letters.
As they unfurled them, the storm began in earnest. It started raining, too.
In waves, they jumped, shrieked and embraced, and the skies opened, drenching the thousands who gathered.
Then, it was time to run.
After accepting their bids, or formal invitations to join the organizations, the new sisters participated in the traditional sprint down the Horseshoe to their chapters, passing lines of fraternity men and others who came to watch. The men cheered, too, some between puffs on their cigars.
Others watched under the shelter of Rutledge College's stoop and the Horseshoe's doorways.Some women slipped on the soaked grass and fell, another time-tested tradition.
"It was the longest run of my life," recalled Mindy Isaacs, a second-year student whose major is undeclared and a member of Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority, of her run down the Horseshoe last year.
It evoked memories for other sisters, too.
For Rosey Murphey, a third-year accounting and global supply chain operations management student and member of Phi Mu sorority, it reminded her of how much her membership had shaped her college experience.
"It reminds me of my freshman year, running through," Murphey said. "When I came in, I didn't know anybody. I met everybody through my sorority."
All told, 1,377 students registered for rush, according to Katie Spell, assistant director of Fraternity and Sorority Life. Of them, 1,103 women received bids Sunday and made the run, up from 1,061 last year.
The numbers don't include Alpha Gamma Delta, USC's newest sorority chapter, which will hold its formal recruitment independently this week.
Still, it works out to an average quota of 111 new members per chapter this year, Spell said.
In total, she said, that makes USC's sorority recruitment among the largest in the Southeastern Conference and, in turn, the country.
And the celebrations weren't limited to people.
Murphey, the Phi Mu, came with Oakley, her Rottweiler-German Shepherd-Labrador-Chow mix.
He was joined by poodles and labradoodles, boxers and German shepherds, many draped in jerseys of their owners sororities. Oakley had one on too, but he was distinguished, perhaps, by his nails, painted pink.
The dogs are a big part of the often-tearful and always-colorful tradition, a day many recall as among the most important days of their lives.
It should be the start of a new chapter for them, Spell said — the start of a lifetime bond that should reach past their years in college. Many new members said they were excited to meet the rest of their sorority and expected it to be a pivotal moment for them.
Some, like Rachel Ferguson, a second-year marine science student and newly minted Alpha Chi Omega member, said they'll have to wait and see how the experience affects them.
Still, within an hour, the excitement and hubbub had moved elsewhere, replaced with a quiet punctuated only by a few errant whistles and a few cheers. By the evening, both the rain and the crowds had trickled out, but vestiges of the day's festivities stayed.
A lone maintenance worker rode down the quiet brick paths on a Gator, picking up the glitter, confetti, ripped signs and balloon arches strewn about the lawn, still soaked from the afternoon's downpour.