What A Rush -- College Women Pledge Their Hearts To Sisterhood

Does anybody need a breath mint?" Peggy Jo (`".J.") Detjen asks.

Immediately, 36 hands shoot in the air.

P.J. passes out several rolls of Certs and Breathsavers, which are gobbled up in seconds.

Fresh breath is important, especially during Rush Week.

P.J., a rush counselor ("Rho Chi"), keeps a supply of breath mints in a Keds shoebox for last-minute jitters. The shoebox is a treasure chest for P.J.'s rushees: tissue paper, gum, bandages, needle and thread, safety pins, buttons, lotion, Blistex, compact mirror, emergency tampons, Jolly Rancher candy, and clear nail polish for nylon runs.

"Just fix your makeup, breathe and relax," P.J. tells her group.

P.J. is one of 18 rush counselors in charge of the 648 women participating in this year's Panhellenic Association Formal Fall Rush Week at the University of Washington. (Four major non-Panhellenic sororities within the UW Multi-Greek Council hold a separate rush later in the year).

Rush is right.

The women are swept along, from house to house, for seven days, visiting 1,100 sorority women in 18 houses.

That's a lot of breath mints.

P.J.'s group visited Kappa Kappa Gamma first. They stood outside the main door.

"We're at the Kappa Kappa Gamma house," P.J. recited. "Their colors are dark and light blue, their flower is the Fleur-de-lis, and they go by `Kappa.' "

The doors burst open promptly at 9:30: "KAPPA KAPPA GAMMA! HOW'D YA LIKE TO BE A KAPPA KAPPA GAMMA? BE A KAPPA WITH ME!"

About 20 women, all smiles and pearly teeth, kept cheering as two Kappa hostesses (identically dressed in blue party dresses) led P.J.'s awestruck rushees to their first party.

P.J. and her assistant ("runner") Ari Shull, a "Tri Delt" (Delta Delta Delta), waited until the end of the party to lead the group to the next house. They ignored the stares of the Sigma Chi fraternity spectators, who were sprawled on couches across the street.

Sororities treat rush very seriously. Joining a house is an opportunity of a lifetime - to form close ties with a family of sorts, to live in a community devoted to a specific philanthropy, to have a home.

Not to mention Homecoming parties.

Robyn Fischer, 18, of Auburn, looked concerned.

When she sat down for lunch, she felt that familiar zzzzzzzzzzzzt! crawl up her leg.

A run in her nylon stockings.

She shrugged, went to the bathroom, and took off her stockings.

She had another full afternoon of touring houses. In her nice shoes.

She would need some lotion. Where was P.J. and her shoebox?

Nancy, 18, was one of the 44 women who dropped out of rush.

If she wants to give sororities another try, there is always "Continuous Open Bidding," an informal rush process that occurs throughout the year. But because she is considering informal rush, she doesn't want her real name used. She's afraid publicity will hurt her chances.

Nancy thought the first two days of rush were a waste of time.

The faces, houses and conversations raced by in one giant blur. She felt as if she were walking down a crowded street, never stopping to say hello to anyone.

Nancy found the conversations predictable and a bit tedious. "Where are you from?" "What were your high school activities?"

"Do you want a breath mint?" P.J. asked.

"Sure," Nancy said.

Nancy came to rush partly because her mother had been in a sorority, which made Nancy a "legacy." She was also curious about the stereotypes. Were they all blond cheerleaders?

Most importantly, Nancy, like the 647 other rushees, was terrified of college. She was afraid of getting lost in the crowd. The sororities, despite their corny songs and silly skits, looked homey and less intimidating than the dormitories.

Sigma Kappa had a special treat for its rushees during the party.

"YO YO YO! Did someone say RAP?"

A small group of Sigma Kappas, dressed in matching shorts, T-shirts, and Converse hi-tops, began their Sigma Kappa rap:

"Homey, we ARE the homechicks! / Sigma Kappa is the place! / So why don't you try . . . SIGMA KAPPA!"

b-b-b-b-BOOM!

"We're the best SOROR-I-TY!/UH HUH!/When it comes to being GREEK/You should go our way!/Be in Sigma Kappa!/You will be so BAD!"

Day Three of rush is pretty nerve-racking.

The sororities, after a grueling 48 hours of 648 spirited but brief conversations, announce their first round of invitations.

Some rushees are accepted back by all the sororities.

One rushee received only five invitations. "She acted like it didn't matter, but she was upset," a worried Rho Chi told a fellow Rho Chi in the hallway.

"I know you're not happy with the choices, but give the houses one more chance," another Rho Chi advised her disgruntled rushee.

Nancy and Robyn received a healthy number of invitations.

Robyn, the eternal optimist, eagerly awaited the next round of parties, despite her sore feet. But she regretted not bringing along her tennis shoes.

Nancy's feet were tired, too. And she was dreading the next slew of parties.

I'll give it another chance, Nancy thought. It can't hurt to keep trying.

Even P.J. was scared of the rumored "Animal House" parties during her own rush. Instead, P.J. discovered a group of Pi Phi women who respected her and offered her security. There was A.R.R.C., the Acquaintance Rape Resource Committee, a Panhellenic-sponsored rape education group made up of two sorority women from each house. In addition, Pi Phi sisters tutored students each week for their philanthropy, "Links to Literacy." P.J. couldn't have been happier.

Although she laughs at the "Delta Delta Delta!" jokes on "Saturday Night Live," Ari says the skit isn't realistic. Sure the Tri-Delts are spirited. Sure, everyone loves football games. But as the Tri-Delt song says, "At those late-night study sessions/We learned more about each other than our lessons."

Like Robyn and Nancy, Ari and P.J. were just looking for a few friends.

College life can be rough, you know.

Bid Day. The final day of rush.

There are 604 women left.

They had narrowed their choices to three sororities or less.

They are now sorority experts.

At first, the houses all seemed the same. Now, the differences are like night and day.

Lisa Dykes, 18, of Bothell, summed it up: "The sororities are a lot more diverse than people give it credit for. I was surprised at how kind and accepting all the houses were. We're just trying to find a place where we can live happily."

P.J. and Ari handed out the handsomely printed invitations.

Robyn loved all the houses; she wanted to be in all the sororities.

Sigma Kappa, those bad rapsters, chose Robyn.

Once they received their bids, the rushees, now pledges, raced outside to meet their new sisters. Balloons and "We LOVE our PLEDGES" banners greeted Robyn and the others.

"I'm so happy," Robyn said. "I think I'm going to cry."

Nancy wasn't at Bid Day. She'd left the day before.

Instead, she attended the university's freshman orientation program. "There's a lot of neat clubs on campus," she said.

It wasn't an easy decision. Nancy had met a lot of interesting women, and already felt close ties to several sorority sisters.

But she wasn't sure if sorority life was for her. "I'll start fresh and go to the UW with no specific images," she decided. "I'll see who my friends will be."

The sorority stereotypes, Nancy had decided, were not true. OK, so some were blond, and some were cheerleaders. But not everyone.

"They were cheerful, but sometimes fake," she said. "There is a lot of conformity, but I guess with that you get a lot of closeness that you miss out at the dorms."

"I'm not down on sororities," Nancy added hastily. "I haven't given up on them. I'll keep an eye on them."

"My mom was real supportive. I spent a lot of time making this decision. I don't know if it was the right decision. I don't think there is a right or wrong decision. It just takes you down a different path. I'll find out if that path is the one I want to take."