cornell campus-- Williard Straight was a Cornell architecture student and apparent imp who, in 1901, spearheaded an event which has become an enduring tradition: Dragon Day.
And so, on the last day of classes before Spring Break, the Dragon emerges from its lair, which is, I don't know, wherever the first-year architecture students who build it keep it. They parade it around the Arts Quad (home to the College of Art, Architecture and Planning) on over to the Engineering Quad, where the Dragon does battle with a Phoenix created by the engineers.
But before the big showdown, pranks must be pulled. This year, the architects organized a flash mob at the engineering school, where they infiltrated the common area dressed as oddballs and outcasts, and attempted to engage whoever was around in socially inappropriate conversation. The engineers retaliated by TPing the trees in the Arts Quad.
Not knowing what to expect from this hallowed tradition, I swooped over to Karen's work to fetch her for the festivities. As we arrived on campus, the Phoenix was already laying in wait for the Dragon. It was a striking red color but looked pretty drowzy... and frankly unimposing. If I hadn't known it was a Phoenix, I would have guessed a laying hen who fallen asleep on the couch in front of CluckTV. I'd be willing to bet this Phoenix doesn't have to self-immolate too often. 
This year's Dragon had a marionette-like front half, scary claws, gnashing teeth, a lunging neck and cleverly self-referential scales (yellow cardboard cups, recycled from the cafe in the dirty cellar of College of Art, Architecture and Planning, The Green Dragon). The rest of the Dragon had a home-spun quality that appealed to one of us and left the other underwhelmed. One of us thought the patchwork of burlap pieces was cute and appropriate given the other eco-friendly materials used. The other of us thought it was not very fiendish.
Escorted by a bunch of students in costume, Dragon and Phoenix had their "showdown", which is to say the Dragon passed by the stationary Phoenix and they glanced at each other.
Then back to the Arts Quad for the big finale where the Dragon meets its fiery end in a bonfire in the middle of the lawn.
Though the floats are on a slightly smaller scale than the Rose Bowl's and the costumed revelers aren't as abundant or as nude as at the Bay-to-Breakers, any event that creates a sense of community by banishing the grey dregs of winter with whimsy and weirdness-- if only for a day-- is a good thing in my book.
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