Going out, flirting with a hottie (with the proper beer goggles, this could be just about anyone) then shacking up is a part of collegiate culture – and, let’s face it, unless you plan on never leaving his (or, let’s be fair, her) bed the odds are pretty high one of you will be doing the walk of shame home.

To say I’m an expert in this Walk would be an enormous understatement. I’ve walked at 5 am, I’ve walked at noon, I’ve even walked at 4 pm (don’t ask) … Name a time of day and I’ve trekked the long road (or path orhallway) back to, in the early years, my dorm room, and now, my apartment.

I suppose I should say that I’ve found these walks rather humiliating, but that’s just not the case.  Sure, there were a few I would rather take back – trudging home in a torrential rainstorm, sans umbrella and sans bra wasn’t one of my favorite moments.  Any Walk that involved formalwear, stilettos, a wicked hangover and two feet of snow was just miserable. And I’ve definitely had my share of  How-Could-I-Not-Realize-There-Was-So-Much-Alcohol-In-That-Jungle-Juice-and
-what-was-I-THINKING-with-this-guy mornings.

But at least I was never offered “Walk of Shame Waffles,” like a group of students at the University of California, Santa Barbara did to “all the girls in miniskirts and heels” the morning after the first weekend of the new quarter, traditionally a huge party night.  “That was f-ing awesome,” says a senior at the university.

And I was never serenaded with the “Walk of Shame” cover to the song Sounds of Silence, as a friend of mine was when she made the mistake of leaving her hook-up’s dorm room in a nightgown at 6am, just when the entire college crew team was on its way to practice.  “They thought it would be hilarious,” she moans.  “It so wasn’t.”

Even my Intra-dorm Walks didn’t go too badly – although I got lucky.  Don’t for a moment be naïve enough to think that hooking up with someone in your dorm eliminates The Walk.  Oh, no.  It may make the Walk quicker but it’s rife with danger – as anyone who’s ever skulked down a freshman hall dorm at 11 am on a Saturday knows, the gauntlet of people you “know” can be far worse than the randoms outside dutifully heading to the library in the a.m.

So what is it that makes a Walk of Shame so shameful?  Other than the fact you probably look like shit (no one is at their best after a long night of drinking, too little sleep, and a serious lack of deodorant), is there anything inherently outrageous about it anymore?

“Well,” says my friend Kimberly, “you can’t feel shame if it’s something you would feel completely comfortable doing sober and responsible.  Unless you’re in the sex industry and reputation doesn’t matter, I would avoid the walk of shame at all costs.”

The guys I spoke with certainly didn’t seem particularly worried.

According to Andrew, a recent Notre Dame grad, frat brothers of his would call it the “Walk of Fame.”  They especially loved strutting by the campus church as everyone was filing in for services on Sunday mornings (Catholics are funny like that.  Always rubbing it in to the poor priests).

Mike, a Georgetown senior, says his roommate calls it the “Stride of Pride,” and he’s not against the idea.  “I once took the bus home from my girlfriend's house all the way back to Georgetown at 10 am on a Sunday morning ... in a tuxedo that I had worn the night before.  It was pretty obvious.”

Of course, unless they’re in formalwear, or well, boxers, it’s more difficult to spot a guy making the post-nookie trip.  “Nine times out of ten a guy can make it home undetected and unharassed, mainly because guys can wear the same clothes out night and day,” says Brett, a senior at University of California Santa Barbara.  “Girls in short skirts, heels, hot tops, or with their hair quasi-done stick out from the rest of the early morning crowd.”

What are the most dangerous setups for brutally embarrassing Walks?  Themed parties, of course.  “Then no one is safe,” Brett says.  “there are a lot of bad scenarios you can think of here.”

Of course, the best Walk of Shame stories can turn into campus legend, as Ohio State University columnist Rebecca Miller proved when she held the First Annual Walk of Shame Awards this past year.  Among the winners?  “A girl leaving the Holiday Inn bra in hand with her shirt on inside out and backwards,” “Man in flowered bedsheet Toga,” “girl in muddy bikini,” “shirtless guy in grass skirt”  and finally, “ a Stiletto-wearing girl skulking down Summit Street in vintage lingerie costume.”

Ouch.

Unless you covet such an award, Veteran Walkers recommend everything from bringing a mini-alarm with you when you go clubbing, “just in case,” to buying a chastity belt (doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?), to owning a hot tub (you’d obviously be crashing at your house then.  Very clever).

And if you can’t avoid it, work it like my friend Pablo does.  “The risk of running into a previous hookup or, even worse, your Macro or English, teacher is too high, so you need to cover your tracks. Get a disguise,” he says, “Visit the bathroom, wet the hair, make it seem like you just took a shower, like ‘I’m waking up early to go to church.’”

That’s right, you’re waking up early to go to church in a toga. Wouldn’t mom and dad be proud?

I think the lesson comes down to this.  1) Keep your head down.  2) Don’t lose your underwear.  And 3) if at all possible, avoid shacking up after a “Pimps N Hoes” party.

Then again, you could be like Sean from Wesleyan, who actually appreciates walking in the “early hours of the morning.”  “You walk home, shirt all untucked, carrying your jacket, shoes untied.  It's totally glam.  Your roommates give you the "I know what you did last night, dirty man!" but you're thinking, "well, it was better than staying in and watching Dawson's Creek, sucka!”

WALK OF SHAME HALL OF FAME

• “I was on a student trip to Rio de Janiero, and we had to catch a plane for another city early the next morning.  I was having so much fun partying with a hot David Beckham looking guy, away from the rest of the group, that I lost track of time.  I barely had enough time to race back to the hotel, throw my stuff in a bag and join my fellow students on the bus to the airport.  Unfortunately I had to board the plane looking like some rocker’s latest girlfriend in a black sequined skit tight skirt, sexy black halter and fuck-me heels.  Amidst the respectable suits and eager, curious tourists, I sat there with my legs and cleavage on display, sporting dark Jackie-O glasses, sipping a bloody Mary … - Catherine, Berkeley Law Student*
• “Freshman year I decided the best cure for my boyfriend’s recurrent inability to get it up was to wear a red silk nightie to his room, with a Donna Karan raincoat over it because it was pouring that night.  Of course, the next morning at 11 am, as my fellow students walked to class and I walked home, it was bright and sunny and I got more than a few stares.” – Sarah, Princeton
• “When I was a senior in college, I would often sleep on my friend's couch (or she on mine), to avoid the long (2 block) walk back at 4 in the morning.  This involved many a walk of shame past the homeless lady who lived in her building, in various states of clothing (drunk; still drunk/still skanked up from evening before; hungover/wearing friend's borrowed pajamas, etc.), at various inappropriate hours of the day and night.   It got to the point where we got so worried that the homeless lady thought that we were a lesbian couple that we whenever we would walk by her we would start talking loudly about instances of wild sex with our (non-existent) boyfriends just to set the record straight.  Yes--to set the record straight with a homeless lady who lived in an apartment lobby.” – Judy, Johns Hopkins
• “The worst Walk of Shame I did was coming home after a Highlighter party (you wear a white shirt to the party where the only lighting is Black Light and everyone writes on each other with highliters which glow).  There was some crazy shit drunkenly written and drawn on my shirt and nothing sticks out quite like  shirt covered in florescent marker.  Needless to say I got a lot of hollas on that walk.” – Britt, University of California Santa Barbara
• “After a serious hook up, I discovered in the morning that I had bled all over this guy’s sheets and ended up taking the sheets with me to wash.  Walk of Shame while carrying bloody sheets … yeah, that’s pretty bad.” – Jen, University of Iowa*
• “I ended up hooking up with a friend after a fairly substantial amount of whiskey, woke up the next morning with one hell of a hangover, and realized I had 30 minutes to make it to a meeting with my professor.  After getting dressed, giving the taxi the wrong address, and then running 8 blocks, I arrived at the meeting about 20 minutes late but thought all was well.  I then went out to lunch with aforementioned friend I had hooked up with and checked into the W hotel a few hours later, only to discover, upon looking in the mirror, that I had done all of the preceding actions with HUGE FUCKING RACCOON EYES that made me look like a CRACK WHORE.  After all of this, how could I not love the walk of shame?” – Sandy, NYU*

*names changed to protect the slutty