Entertainment: You've been warned; a Recess guide to avoiding pain this parents' weekend

An ominous feeling descends upon the Duke campus like a sharp-taloned owl upon an unsuspecting field mouse. Administrators tighten ties and students throw out cigarette cartons and grain alcohol bottles. We all scramble to hide our many faults and indiscretions from the people who are the most adept at picking them out. They're coming. They're coming and they're bringing the hugs, the kisses, the Lysol, the toilet paper and about 300 suggestions/demands on how you should be living. It's parents' weekend, for better or worse, and one must be prepared.

The awkward affection in front of your friends notwithstanding, you are genuinely happy to see the old folks at your door and embrace them. After a quick 20-second tour you discretely shuffle them out of the room so they don't try and dissect the second hand job you've done "cleaning." Of course, you may be one of the clever few who has them meet you at a neutral site off-campus, a twisted strategic cousin of the old "drop me off a block before the movie theater, Mom" move in eighth grade. Either way, getting them out of your room is step one. Remember the party you threw when they were out of town in tenth grade and then Monday hoping desperately that they wouldn't find the one odd Natural Light can playing hide-and-seek under the couch? Well now you're in college and the playing field has changed, but the referees have not so be wary of any and all incriminating material you may not have sufficiently buried in your sock drawer.

So they're out of the room and they want to experience a typical day in the life of their darling child. If you don't wish to disappoint then we suggest you forego visiting the following Duke hot spots:

Allen Building:
They want to experience the small class atmosphere and stimulating seminar dialogue that their money has so lavishly made available to you, so a Friday writing class seems like a good day stop. That's when you realize that your writing class in the Allen Building is taught in a teeny-weeny dungeon with no windows where they sweat you out with high temperatures and bright fluorescent lighting. Duke does provide a photograph of a tree and a finger painting of a meadow to create the image of a world outside this miserable little hovel, but as the air starts to go bad during the second hour of your marathon once-a-weeker and the diameter of the pit stains on your Dad's Polo seep wider you may wish you had taken him to Sanford for a wrap instead.

The Marketplace:
Let's be honest, at least one of your parents probably had a business lunch at Morton's this week and as intriguing as those sea nuggets are, there is a good reason why you've ordered Cinelli's the last four nights. Besides, they have already told you twice that you've gained weight so skipping a meal might showcase to them your staunch willpower.

Local Frat House:
The evening has set on and its time to give your parents a peek into your social life. Their faces scrunch up as they are enveloped at the door by the overpowering odor--a heinous potpourri of stale beer and wet cigarette ash. They see an overzealous father being held up by his son for a keg stand while his mother excitedly cheers along as she slurps on a "happy" Snapple. You lead them away from the house after your mother balks at the eerily damp living room couches and yelps upon witnessing the scurrying of Willy, the resident pet opossum, as he plucks another gold nugget from the trash can and returns to his lair directly below the front porch.

Shooters:
You decide you can't go wrong bringing them to a licensed local bar until Billy Ray, the toothless NASCAR aficionado in the denim suit, asks your mother to join him in the cage for some "disco dancing." Your father breaks his leg on the electric bull, and the live country band decides that your lovely mother should be the theme for a clever and risqué bar limerick to be delivered with great gusto and body language on stage. As the Volvo pulls away from your dorm, your parents consider the bond between themselves and their child, the anxiety of separation and the yearning to hug the one in which they have invested so much of their love and affection. Then your father buckles in pain as his leg rams against the dash at a speed bump and your mother scratches at the swollen opossum bite on her calf, and they are thankful that parents' weekend comes only once a year.