Getting into (and thrown out of) the MIT Steer Roast

By djdreilinger on Thu, May 29, 2008 4:01 pm

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Cold rain couldn't douse MIT's recent Senior House Steer Roast, the infamous two-day dorm barbecue with mud wrestling, bands, and tons of all-night-roasted beef roasted overnight. The annual event is open to members of the MIT community and guests, but not necessarily to the press, so we (yes, the royal we) went as a party-loving citizen.

The crowd cheered as drizzle fell on the wrestlers the first night, especially when victorious "Pope Nick" put on a paper mitre and flashed devil horns. Six sides of beef tied to a spit dripped over a bed of coals in the courtyard for the next afternoon’s feast; alas, it is apparently illegal to spit a whole steer. What a letdown.

Still, the heat was welcome that evening as Ho-Ag played thunderously under a rapidly (and perilously) filling tarp. As the wet night wore on, the indoor commotion grew. Residents with armbands stoically guarded the stairways of the dorm. Naturally we took that as a cue to mosey in and check out the overheated mayhem. A helpful bingo card was available to keep track of the not-necessarily-legal activities.

But the bands aren’t officially the point, so the next afternoon, we pried ourselves out of bed and ponied up some cash for the ceremonial eating of the steer. Despite the Paleolithic spectacle of the traditional pit lighting the previous day— a flaming roll of toilet paper sent down a zip line, according to an eyewitness — the feast resembled an old-fashioned town picnic, with long tables and home-cooked side dishes. Thick, tender slices of steer hung over the edges of most plates. “It’s kind of disgusting but totally awesome at the same time,” said dorm resident David Greenberg.

As we scribbled quotes from friendly residents who seemed eager to inform, the hulking shadows of a security guard and "veep" Erik Fogg, seen the night before wearing a Masters of the Universe outfit with football shoulder pads and a cape, loomed over our lunch. This was a private event for students and alumni, he said (though there was no guest list at the door that afternoon); we'd have to leave.

Fortunately, we'd had all we could stomach of beef and loud music. Will we try to get in next year? Will we want to? Will Senior House let us? We'll see.

--Danielle Dreilinger