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SAC Fair Opens New Horizons: Perhaps I Am the Perfect Candidate for Swing Dancing


Photo by Kylie Cooper / The Daily Pennsylvanian w/ edits 

There are seldom moments in life when people believe so enthusiastically in your future: high school graduation, an engagement announcement, maybe a new job offer. Despite their significance in Western society, these events can’t even compete with the levels of passion shown by the club representatives lining Locust Walk in the heat of August.

The annual Seize-and-Convert Fair (known lovingly by Penn students as the SAC Fair) is a phenomenon that offers innumerable possibilities. At the Student-Attack-and-Conquer Fair, you can become anything you want to be. With the right array of flyers in hand, you can finally achieve true self-actualization. By joining the right combination of clubs, not only can new skills be realized, but new personality traits as well. 

Have you always wanted to learn how to keep bees? There is a booth for you. Or perhaps you’re from the dry, barren and distant land of Arizona and have dreamed of gliding on ice since you were a wee babe. You’re in luck. Do you burst into song at random times and annoy everyone within a 2 mile radius? Oh boy, is there a booth for you. Not only do Penn Clubs provide a social calendar, they can teach you any skill imaginable (unless you’re trying to learn how to commit tax fraud, in this case I recommend the Wharton Club Fair). 

No one has ever believed in my potential like the SAC Fair club representatives. They believe in not just my potential, but already worship my future greatness.  As I weave between the booths, I am bombarded with comments like “no experience required!” and “beginners welcome!” -- which does wonders for my self-esteem (I have a very limited array of marketable skills). 

In the eyes of the clubs, I am the prophesied one, the chosen one, the one who has traveled from the foreign land of Texas to bestow greatness upon their organization struggling with recruitment. After accidentally making eye contact with one of the West Philly Swingers representatives, I must oblige to social expectations and approach their booth. Despite never taking a dance class in my life, the representatives regard my pudgy legs and deem them “perfect for our types of choreography.” My blushed and asymmetrical face is “ideal for stage expressions.” Flattered, I take a flyer and concoct a daydream. 

Walking back to my dorm, I begin to reimagine myself as an entirely new being, a creature endowed with the gift of rhythm, coordination, and basic motor skills. My future awaits.