A day in the life of a Hoco house

I wake up to the sound of clanging pots and pans as my roommates start their day. It’s barely 10 a.m. 

Usually, I’d try and fall back asleep (last night was Friday after all), but today is Hoco. The earlier you start, the better. 

Some of my roommates are gearing up for a last-minute bike trip. Another is halfway out the door, heading to her job downtown.

That leaves me and my roommate, Marin, to hold down the fort. 

The plan is simple: mixed drinks, people watching and inviting a few friends to join. 

Before breakfast, I go outside to set up chairs on the front lawn. In a hurry to escape whatever chaos the day might bring, two of my roommates zip off on their bikes, passing pairs of pedalling police officers, who are pining for potential pandemonium. 

On foot, droves of officers roam around, patrolling the sidewalks. At each street corner, more officers are stationed in clusters. Stepping out of your front door to see 20 cops would normally be concerning, but today, it’s expected. 

Ever since I moved to Jennings Street two years ago, I’ve watched the homecoming celebrations become less Project X (2012) and more Paul Blart: Mall Cop (2009). 

Archived news articles and stories told by alumni describe the scene as a tsunami of students engaging in free-for-all madness. 

We haven’t even started making drinks, but across the street, a ping-pong table is set up in the yard. Shabbily painted black and gold, it doesn’t take long for a mid-morning game to kick off: carpe diem. Officers parked on the corner interrupt the game to briefly speak with the pong players. After a few minutes, they head back to their post.

In search of cocktail mixers, I head to Jubilee Junction. The sidewalk in front of the corner store is blanketed with students and police officers. 

I return to my house to find a group of cops huddled in a circle, mingling amongst themselves on the sidewalk. A few friends sidestep the police to join me on the porch, basking in the sun as we catch up over drinks.

By mid-afternoon, flocks of students decked out in Dal branded paraphernalia are on the hunt for a celebration. Unfortunately for them, the sidewalk has been spoken for. Herded along by officers, students search desperately for the nearest darty. 

Ducking behind unlocked doors, revellers reappear — with cups in hand — on balconies as dance music radiates from portable speakers. Off the streets, Hoco lives on.

Looking down, they can see police standing in groups, throwing back energy drinks, while they catch up with their peers.