Sororities were a significant presence on the University of Richmond campus, so much so that during every rush season both the traditionalists and insecure alike decked themselves out in their best preppy finery in order to out-charm the competition and receive an invitation to join their ideal sisterhood. Those who opted to abstain were left behind during rush and the other Greek-centric points throughout the year, like weekend getaway formals and tailgating during the Spider football season.

For my friends and me, the relevance of UR sororities was dubious. They didn't host kickin' parties, only weekly chapter meetings and the occasional "T-shirt Day". This was an opportunity for the sorostitutes to not only demonstrate their affiliation with a particular sisterhood, but also to indicate their own subsequent coolness factor. These T-shirts were fashioned from a variety of brightly colored shirts with the sorority letters appliquéd in a contrasting patterned material. The sisters would also carry similarly adorned tote bags, presumably to further emphasize their membership. It was these days that led us to start affectionately referring to sororities as T-shirt Clubs.

I spent part of my college years as an RA, and several of my "children"-- Amber, the vegan make-up artist; Allison, the tennis-playing Twin Peaks enthusiast; and Denise, the intellectual thrift store connoisseur-- decided to entertain themselves by showing the sororities how to do it right. After discussing the matter with Amber's friends at the University of Wisconsin, a plan was hatched-- the girls were going to establish their own sorority. One wintry afternoon, eschewing the established guidelines of the Greek system, the Beta chapter of Pi Omega Omega Pi convened at the University of Richmond.

There wasn't a rush in order to become a member of ΠΩΩΠ; it was more of an initiation rite. Potentials had to perform an embarrassing act-- decided upon by the founding sisters and custom-fit to the individual. Thus the shenanigans ensued. While Denise did her version of musical theatre on a dining hall table, Allison "tripped" outside a lecture hall and rolled down a wooded hill. Amber was given the task of striking up a conversation with her crush-- about his pet hamster.

Then came the T-shirts-- lovingly hand-sewn by the chapter's Alpha sisters in Wisconsin, who excitedly listened to tales of how their demented sisterhood was rapidly growing. The day the small group of us first donned our t-shirts was particularly memorable. During lunch Allison and Amber found themselves in an unlikely situation: sitting at a table on the Greek side of the dining hall surrounded by several legitimate sorority sisters and fraternity brothers.

Sorostitute 1 (reading the shirt aloud in a thick Southern accent): "Pi Omega Omega Pi. I don't believe that is a recognized sorority on our campus!"

Allison and Amber (look at each other and grin): "Uhhh..."

Sorostitute 2 (in a stunned chuckle): "Pi Omega Omega Pi, get it?" (blank stare from Sorostitute 1). "It spells POOP!"

Similar run-ins amused us for the remainder of the year. The last great ΠΩΩΠ hurrah came the final week of school; it also came as a thrilling surprise to me. I was in the Commons-- our student center-- casually glancing at the banners hanging throughout the hallway. There was one for the bookstore sale, for the next meeting of the riding club, for the upcoming Golden Key induction ceremony. And then I saw it, in huge brown and pink marker above my head: ΠΩΩΠ. Below it-- in slightly smaller, yet no less artistically scripted letters-- the words: We do crap. Look for Rush Fall 2001. Then, adorning the few blank spaces, floated little turds.

Now, I must point out that banners required not only a reservation for the space but also administrative approval over content. Ads for Greek events and activities were quite common; therefore, it was easy to pass off ΠΩΩΠ's advertisement as more of the same. That was the pure genius of it. It took the Powers That Be nearly three days to realize what exactly was adorning the walls of the heavily trafficked Commons building. Of course, by then we had had our fun. Now the founding sisters of Pi Omega Omega Pi are spread around the country, but bonds remain and the crap continues.