“God, I have the worst head noise this morning. Did I really need a membership to the Harry Potter Alliance?”

UQ first years across Brisbane awoke this morning with aching feet, $150 less in their bank accounts, and unfamiliar clothes strewn across their bedroom floors. If you thought these were the hallmarks of a rumbo-fuelled romp in Fortitude Valley, you’d be forgivably mistaken. In actuality, this is the aftermath of UQ Market Day.

Much like a night on the town, those who frequent Market Day arrive with a sense of hopeful optimism, naïve to the scale of damage they’ll be capable of causing over a mere 3 hours.

Apart from the obvious contrast of the blazing midday sun and the inexplicably Arctic climate of Prohibition night club, both Market Day and a night out are a total assault on the senses. Dazzling colours, bone-rattling bass thumping, and a barrage of overly enthusiastic strangers with unabashed ulterior motives.

In both cases you’ll inevitably be swept up in the chaos and have little recollection of events, other than a vague memory of tapping your card to the tune of $10 over and over again. The only difference is instead of basics, you’re purchasing equally inconsequential memberships to clubs whose meetings you’ll never attend and whose perks you’ll never actually use. On the bright side, at least at Market Day you might walk away with an ill-fitting club-branded t-shirt for your troubles.

But perhaps the most striking similarity between Markey Day a big night out is that despite today’s nauseating hang-xiety, crippling shame and mild amnesia…you’ll most certainly be back to do it all again next year.