Being a senior is a bittersweet position to find yourself in.

On the one hand, you are that much closer to never having to cram for that philosophy midterm or pull an all-nighter writing that 10-page history paper you put off for weeks.

Yet walking across that stage is akin to walking the plank into adulthood.

No more Tuesday night bar crawls.

No more kegs and eggs.

No more #mubb games.

No more ripping paper to join in on the confetti shower when the first point is scored.

No more turning around and yelling “sucks” when the opposing team is introduced.

No more good vibes sent to the free-throw shooter through the spirit fingers.

No more jumping around.

This list will stretch for miles should I name all the little quirks and norms established in “the best student section in the country” — a highly contentious phrase I usually scoff at but one that serves my purposes well right now.

All of that is gone.

Some of us will move back home with our parents, whether that be in Mequon, Minnesota or Manitoba. Some of us will start fresh lives in big cities, hoping to strike it big in the swamp of D.C., or the bright lights of New York City.

All of these life changes will make it impossible to enjoy the Marquette basketball experience in the same way.

Even those of us that will remain in the general vicinity of Milwaukee and begin our 50-year quest to be named season ticket holders of the game will have to adapt to a whole new game routine sitting amongst the sweater vests in the nosebleeds.

It hit me hard waiting in line at 10:30 a.m. for Saturday’s game against the Hoyas.

There I was with my roommate, fighting off some biting winds and planning our sprint to get the bests seats possible when some fans behind us pulled off a feat rarely seen outside the Bradley Center.

Their morning beverages had done their duty and were forcing their way out. Having been penned in like cattle, there was no hope for a quick run to a port-a-potty or unseen wall. Nature called, however, and it does not wait on anybody.

So the two guys formed a human barricade around the third who did his best Dumb and Dumber impression into an empty Gatorade bottle, nearly filling all 16 ounces in as public an arena as it gets.

You’re not going to see that ever again.

Or how about the 11 students, both male and female, in front of me once inside, shedding their shirts and busting out the chest paint to spell out “Go Marquette” — correctly, may I add.

The sweater vests can’t even follow the directions for a gold-out properly. How am I supposed to go from shirtless boys and girls to stuck-up men and women in the blink of an eye?

What I will say, though, is that the class of 2012 can count its lucky stars. This senior class has been spoiled by success rarely seen since the ’70s.

They saw an NBA player every year starting with Wes Matthews and most likely continuing with D-Jae-O — kudos to the athletic department for that one.

They saw two separate top-10 rankings bookending their career.

They saw an NCAA Tournament team each and every season.

They saw a Sweet 16, something seen only twice in the previous two decades.

They also saw a victory on their Senior Day in front of the third-largest crowd in Marquette history and the second-rowdiest student section of the past four years — behind only the Connecticut game in 2009.

All in all, my senior class witnessed 93 victories — so far — and the rise of a legendary coach, two-stepping Marquette into the national spotlight time and time again.

You can’t ask for much more than that.

Adios Bradley Center. You may be a terrible basketball venue, but you have been a gracious host the past four years.

For my fellow seniors walking that plank, a Dr. Seuss quote fits the bill. “Don’t cry because its over. Smile because it happened.”

We are, and will always be, Marquette.