Ah, REX week is like monsoon season for friendships—everyone thrown together, loud and fast. You rush to join an FSILG for the parties, the yard, the life outside a dorm’s walls. That first week’s choice sticks, like a good crew; you’ll sail your four years with the same boisterous mates you found in the rain. I saw it on the freighters—the men who chose their ship for the revelry in port always had a fuller story to tell, no?
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