As I sprinted across the road separating Ida Noyes from the quad, the words of my soon-to-be-battle-worn comrades were drowned out by an ominous chant: “Max Pussy! Max Pussy! Max Pussy!” cried the voices, blending together with undeniable weight in a haze of matching purple t-shirts to represent Max Palevsky in this year’s hunt. I didn’t know it at the time, but this encounter would haunt the rest of my UChicago Scavenger Hunt (Scav) experience, foreshadowing our extremely close loss to the cat-based team. Extremely close. A minuscule difference. (They placed first and my team, the venerable Crustsaders, took home twelfth!) In any case, we had but one objective: to emerge victorious.
History
Scav is one of UChicago’s most vaunted traditions, even if my roommate had never heard of it until day three of the four-day annual event—this year held from May 2 to May 5, 2024. Created in 1987, Scav is one of the largest scavenger hunts in the world, second only to Google’s virtual one. Referencing the 2007 Scav article from the Maroon, this year’s Head Judge David Hall described it as a period of “collective effervescence.”
Beginning Thursday, students in Scav work on collecting items and competing in various events to collect points, culminating in Judgement on Sunday, when items are evaluated, points tallied, and placements revealed. Each judge is in charge of evaluating the validity of their own requested items, comprising a single page on The List, the official collection of items and tasks to be completed by participants for points.
In the past, UChicago students have been known to go all out for the competition, with Snell-Hitchcock’s team even hosting an auction to raise funds for item completions, though they did not compete this year. And, as anyone who has attended a campus tour can attest, this willingness to go above and beyond for the hunt is also the source of every tour guide’s favorite anecdote: students Fred Niell (A.B. ’99) and Justin Kasper (A.B. ’99) making a nuclear reactor in their dorm room to complete an item, a debacle that some students even allege ended with FBI involvement (It didn’t!) despite the machine creating only trace amounts of plutonium. Niell himself notes that the plutonium concentration was “well below the threshold of what might be considered detectable.”
The specifics of judging, and much of Scav in general, “operates behind a veil, and we like to keep it that way,” Judge Isha Mehta, a second-year, said. The creation of The List, too, is shrouded in mystery.
“All year, we [the judges] do nothing, and then the night before, we shovel down eight Red Bulls and write whatever we want to our heart’s content,” Hall said. “[During the rest of the year], we do rituals. A lot of it is getting to know judges and their vibes… so that when we do end up making The List the night before, it synergizes very well.”
Hall described one of his most memorable requests from last year’s hunt. “One of the items that I asked for was a cake made from Taco Bell’s Baja Blast with Diablo Sauce for frosting,” Hall said. “In my mind, this was going to be a really interesting flavor combination of spicy and sweet, but I failed to consider the garlic in the Diablo Sauce, so every time I ate it was so horrible… this just happened to be the item on my page that every team did, which meant I had to sit there and taste each Baja Blast cake.”
My personal favorite item this year was reciting a selection from Beowulf at a frat party, my team’s chosen scene of the crime being Alpha Delta Pi’s concert-themed party, Aloha Delt. I felt that our delivery perfectly toed the line between heartbreaking and comedic, especially set against a crowd screaming the lyrics to “Party in the USA.”
Wednesday – Release of The List
Chanting filled the hallowed halls of Ida Noyes, as if to summon some eldritch being—“We want the list! We want the list! We want the list!”—crescendoing as the judges appeared, clad in white captain’s hats. A friend of mine, to whom I showed a video of this pre-hunt ritual, told me we sounded like a cult.
The List was to be released at 11:59, but not without a little pre-competition competition, the judges explained. Thus, equipped with hastily procured brooms and red vines, each team was to send a brave jockey onto the racecourse to compete in the first ever annual Scav Derby—set in space?
As our jockey valiantly made her way across the hall with her trusty steed (a broom), answering trivia questions with incredible skill to ensure her progression forward, the judges announced their grave error. “We didn’t send those horses to space,” the judge said, referring to our brave contestants’ steeds. “We sent them to horse hell.” The route was blocked. Our racers would have to search for another way out.
With this new discovery, racers were forced to adapt, and sidelined teammates were given the opportunity to search for clues as an alternative route to The List. My team split off, but we unfortunately misheard the instructions and ended up looking into a suspicious—but unrelated and decidedly used—red solo cup in the far reaches of the basement.
Luckily, our racer made her way across the finish line shortly after, compensating for our brief blunder, and we soon had The List in hand. After sending our most intimidating glares to the competition—we were never ones to slack on psychological warfare—we found a spot to strategize on the quad. With a little help from Adobe Scan, we were assigning items left and right—a sand-filled condom, an earthworm to be dropped off at a discreet location at 7 a.m., and so on and so forth.
The worm, in particular, was decidedly difficult to capture. With the help of two of my teammates, I stood, hunched over my phone’s flashlight, in front of Rockefeller Chapel, squinting for signs of squishy life. To our surprise, there were a variety of worms to choose from, but still more surprising was how quickly they could retreat into their holes. A single brush against a nearby grass blade sent them underground, which is why, at 1:45 a.m., after half an hour of fruitless worm collecting, we decided on a tactical retreat.
Thursday
The next morning, the hunt began in earnest. Allegedly, there was a Captain’s Breakfast at 8 a.m. that Thursday, but I don’t believe in anything that requires me to leave my dorm before 9 a.m. Later that day, we entered the Pet Rock Show (item 332), our entrant being Dwayne “The Meteor” Johnson, a rock from “space” on whom we had lovingly drawn a face. Devastatingly, Dwayne, who had been so flustered in front of the audience that his cheeks had tinged pink, was cruelly robbed of victory by a high-jumping, sorry excuse for a sedimentary rock. (Please note that this statement is purely for dramatic effect, and I hold no ill will toward I-Home’s pet rock. Not really, anyway.)
At 7 p.m., it was time for that night’s special event: Beat the Judge, in which teams would send representatives to compete against the judges in such tests of skill and wit as Game Pigeon Word Hunt and extreme dice rolling. Regrettably, the only category we emerged victorious from was Hellenist/Latinist vibe checking, that is, determining which language a Classics professor studied based on their photo. With four years of dubious high school Latin under my belt, this was trivially easy, and my victory secured our team third place overall for the event.
Afterward, we retreated to the Woodlawn kitchens, attempting to make some of the food-based items—victory-roll-shaped challah bread (ours was made with no yeast), deep dish pizza (more points for every additional inch of depth), and edible light bulbs. Of course, the Woodlawn ovens being shut down that week hindered our culinary range, but we persevered, cooking many of our items—only somewhat dubiously—in the microwave.
Friday
My fellow captains and I awoke on Friday morning with every intent of competing in the evening’s Scav x Harper Finkle Fashion Show. Our model would be dressed as a cockroach and covered in various pieces of “garbage,” inspired by a Scav List from 1987, and it would be a pivotal moment in the fashion industry. Unfortunately, we were unable to secure a model and therefore unable to participate, but the bun&jammies—our official fashion brand—Instagram page remained active throughout Scav, instead becoming an archive for our attendance of various events.
We gathered at our headquarters to craft some items, having collected various art supplies earlier that day. Among our expertly crafted pieces were a hamster graveyard, an evil skull, and a Paw Patrol guillotine.
“I really enjoyed making the little clay items and just crafting,” Crustsaders Captain Claire Gary, a second-year, said. “I think my favorite item was actually the evil skull. [The item description was] ‘I put my hands up, they’re playing my song, the evil skull’s flying away.’ Definitely a cinematic masterpiece.”
Interlude
I’m sure you’re wondering when I could possibly have had time to study or work on homework in between all of these exciting events and crafting sessions. The answer to this question is: I didn’t!
As the proverb goes, do as I say, not as I do. I was very stressed heading into my midterm the following Monday. Please study.
Saturday – Scav Olympics
21 teams gathered outside Ida Noyes under the hot sun of Chicago spring, peering, cheering, and jeering, as representatives decanted various substances before our very eyes, measuring out the perfect amounts of blueberries, Cool Whip, rice, and cornstarch. The Scav Olympics had begun, and my team intended to take home first.
As each event progressed, our confidence skyrocketed to new heights, earning us hard-fought victories in clothing-wearing and sword painting. Our performance in other events, that is, speed painting, did leave something to be desired. I blame my complete lack of physical prowess and running ability and the fact that I didn’t bring a helmet; I’m sure those improved the other teams’ aerodynamics.
If nothing else, our headquarters was blessed with a very lovely painting of a rat on a skateboard holding a flower.
Saturday – Scavvenfeast
After a day well spent in the Reg, my team reconvened at our secondary headquarters at 6 p.m. to prepare for Scavennfeast, where we would serve the Judges and other teams our bird-inspired culinary creations at 7 p.m. The menu consisted of “toucansu ramen,” “flamcaccia,” black forest cake, and an edible bird’s nest.
As we would soon discover, however, waiting so long to begin cooking was a grave error.
“Access to kitchens tends to be sketchy,” Crustsaders Captain Claire Gary said. “Get to the kitchens early because you might be competing with other Scavvers. We were rejected from the kitchen the first time we showed up to put something in the oven… so we had to use the microwave for things we weren’t expecting to, such as the bread.”
Previous participants and judges alike had assured me that sabotage was nonexistent in Scav, but if this wasn’t a betrayal of the highest order, then I don’t know what would be. We stepped into the kitchen.
“I’m going to be real with you,” the rival cook leveled us with a confident look, gesturing to the space around him. “Occupied.”
And so, we were forced to do almost all our cooking in the microwave in a captain’s dorm, which proved both inefficient and stressful. We started with the bird nest, opting for a variety of caramel shards in a formation resembling a nest, topped with strawberry tanghulu for the eggs. For our “toucansu” ramen, I had selected only the finest instant ramen from Midway Market, which we topped with a dried seaweed beak and two beady little eyes, emulating the spirit of a toucan as best as possible. The black forest cake was a strange amalgamation of a protein shake, chocolate chips, and flour, coming together to create an artistic looking mug cake. Last, and almost certainly least, our “flamcaccia” was cooked mainly in the microwave, made out of leftover challah dough from Thursday night, with a little extra browning in the oven once we convinced the kitchen user to allow us access.
In a flurry of sticky caramel, forgotten quesadillas, and spilled ramen broth, we rushed out the door to Ida Noyes, ready to serve our dishes to the judges.
However, when we arrived, we realized that we had made yet another mistake, expecting the culinary abilities of our competitors to be of a similar level to our own microwave-based madness. In fact, we were amongst prodigal chefs. Teams served up passion fruit chocolate cake, freshly baked focaccia, squid ink pasta, fried noodle nests, and many other astoundingly edible-sounding items.
Luckily, we were able to garner sympathy with our harrowing tales of dorm cooking and walked out with our pride intact. Mostly.
Sunday – Judgment
Now, I would love to regale you with my personal Judgment experience, but the truth is: our entire team overslept and ended up being too lazy to attend. As a result, I now live with Lori Lightroot, a drawing of Former Mayor of Chicago Lori Lightfoot on a sweet potato in my dorm— another unsubmitted item in the extensive graveyard of peculiar Scav-related things in my possession. So, I will instead provide you with all the tips for a winning Scav experience, directly from team captains and judges to you!
Reflecting on the essence of Scav, Arianne Nguyen (A.B. ’24), who was originally captain of the Snitchcock team before it disbanded, remarked: “I think it’s way more about the process of playing the game than it is about playing strategically… Personally, my goal as a captain is to make sure that people have fun, and a lot of that is making sure that people find things they’re interested in.”
Mehta, too, emphasized the importance of finding what “interests” each competitor in having the best possible Scav experience, addressing common concerns about the practicality of Scav. “There is a big misconception that Scav is a huge commitment because you have to do all these items, that it’s a strange community, and there won’t be anything you’re interested in,” Mehta said. “But at the end of the day, there are hundreds of items written by a very diverse group of judges, so there will be something on there that you want to do—that you just enjoy doing for the sake of it.”
Although it’s easy to get lost in the competitive aspects of Scav, as I myself am guilty of, Hall reminds participants that the soul of Scav is in creativity.
“We don’t want completions that are as fast as possible…. [A winning Scav] team is one that puts a little bit of heart into their items and sees the spirit and joy of Scav,” Hall said.
And so, the sun set on the final day of Scav, Max Pussy of Max Palevsky Residential Commons was announced the victor, Crustsaders was among the nine teams tied for twelfth, and I placed Lori Lightroot and Dwayne “The Meteor” Johnson in a shoebox atop my closet—just in case I need them again next year. We all lived happily ever after.
Until next year, that is. Anticipate my comeback in next year’s hunt, in which I will surely be victorious.
