Glitter, gum and vomit: The Howl behind the scenes
They’ve been yelled at. They’ve been jumped over — literally, vaulted over. They’ve had trash cans thrown at them.
Saturday night, they even stayed hours after Howl-goers had gone, scraping gum off the Fieldhouse floor and sweeping up gigantic piles of glittery garbage — the aftermath of Utah’s greatest Halloween party.
It’s not all glittery feathers and trampled chewing gum, though. Tresa Barton, assistant facilities coordinator at the Taggart Student Center, said cleaning up vomit and urine after the Howl is also typical.
Barton said clean-up crews scrub floors, buff walls and spend a week cleaning carpets every year after the Howl.
But volunteers say they’d do it all over again. And most of them do, every year.
“I would rather volunteer than actually attend it,” said Joe Busby, a junior studying elementary education who volunteered at the Howl this year and last year. “You get to know an aspect of the Howl that people don’t see — you know the blueprint to the Howl, in a sense.”
Freshman Brice Jorgensen said she, too, would volunteer again “in a heartbeat.”
“I would only come to the Howl if I was volunteering because I’d feel like I was more a part of things,” Jorgensen said.
While volunteers agreed working the Howl is fun, they also said it can be hard — and sometimes even a little scary.
Rachael Fresh, the Utah State University Student Association’s student alumni VP, said she had a garbage can thrown at her one year.
“It was traumatizing,” Fresh said. “I was more just really intimidated by someone doing something like that and it was my first time ever volunteering, so I was a little afraid.”
Nadan Mohamed is a sophomore studying communications. Last year — her first year volunteering at the Howl — she said someone actually vaulted over her to get into the dance.
“It was terrifying, but it was a lot of fun,” Mohamed said.
Kameron Drage, a senior studying mechanical engineering, said he’s worked the front entrance for the past few years and likes it because it’s usually “kind of mellow.”
“We see a lot of drunk people get called off,” Drage said. “I’d say that’s probably it.”
Aside from confiscating props, of course.
By 11 p.m., the prop bins at the front entrance were nearly full of handcuffs, swords, bright pink pepper spray keychains and even the occasional trident. One party-goer tried to walk in on stilts — but didn’t get very far.
Inside, volunteers had to manage crowd control, which can be another problem entirely.
Similar to years past, there were two dance parties at this year’s Howl to entertain the roughly 5,500 guests. But like always, the Fieldhouse was the most crowded. After 2,750 people had gone in, volunteers and guest services workers had to turn others away.
“It’s hard for other people to say no,” said Katelyn Miles, who works for USU’s guest services, “especially when there’s a bunch of people telling you that they really want in and appealing to your empathy.”
Miles said after three years working events like this, she’s developed a thick skin, though.
“I don’t cry,” she said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Inside the Fieldhouse, volunteers mingle and dance with the rest of the party, but they’re also watching out for people’s safety — like making sure no one passes out in the middle of a thrashing crowd of thousands.
Jorgensen said paramedics came twice during her Fieldhouse shift to remove students who seemed close to losing it.
“I was expecting a couple of people to pass out,” said McKay Frederickson, a freshman who worked security in the Fieldhouse as well.
That expectation is what drives the volunteers and staff who make the Howl happen every year.
“When you’re at the Howl, everybody’s just having a fun time,” Busby said, “but then you know you’re there as a safety net to have their backs.”
And to clean up the glittery mess they leave behind.
@alyssarbrts