Ohio State Graduation Bag Policy

So you’ve conquered four years of late-night library grind sessions, survived Ohio State’s football fanaticism, and now you’re ready to walk across that stage in the Horseshoe. But before you practice your victory dance, there’s a shadow lurking in the corner: the graduation bag policy. Yes, the university has rules about what you can bring to your own celebration, and they are surprisingly specific—like a bouncer at a club for a VIP event you already paid for.

First, let me paint the picture: you’re dressed in that stiff gown, which feels like a burlap sack with a hood, and you want to bring a bag for your phone, water, and maybe a pack of tissues for your teary-eyed grandma. Think again, bucko. Ohio State’s policy is about as welcoming as a parking ticket on your windshield—strict, necessary, and mildly infuriating if you ignore it.

The Clear Bag Law (But for Graduation)

The most shocking twist? You can only bring a clear bag. That’s right—no cute leather totes, no patterned backpacks, no discreet fanny packs that scream “I’m prepared.” They want you to lug around a plastic grocery store-looking sack that would make a surgeon jealous. Why? Because security is hyper-vigilant, and apparently, someone once tried to smuggle in a confetti cannon in a tote bag. (I’m not saying it was a frat boy, but I’m not ruling it out.)

If you show up with an opaque bag, you’ll be politely turned away to stash it in your car or toss it in the nearest dumpster. Don’t expect sympathy from the security guards—they’ve seen hundreds of crushed dreams and broken zippers by now. The clear bag must be 12” x 6” x 12” or smaller, which is roughly the size of a shoebox for a very small elf.

The Exceptions That Make You Laugh

Now, the policy does have a few loopholes that sound like they were written by a committee that never graduated high school. You are allowed a small clutch—like a tiny purse that fits in your palm—as long as it’s 4.5” x 6.5”. That’s big enough for a lipstick, a credit card, and a single tear of joy. But here’s the kicker: you can also bring a medically necessary bag without the clear requirement, but that must be inspected at a special line. Translation? If you need insulin or an EpiPen, you get a VIP pass to the “please don’t sue us” lane.

Ohio State Spring Commencement 2024 in Ohio Stadium in photos

And what about cameras? You can bring a phone, but no selfie sticks—because Ohio State has a strict “no weaponized self-portraits” clause. Also banned: umbrellas, large signs, and any bag that looks like it could hold a commemorative football. It’s like they read the universe’s most boring list of party fouls and thought, “Let’s make this official.”

The Hidden Trap: What You Really Need

Here’s the surprising fact that no one tells you: you don’t actually need a bag at all. The ceremony lasts about two hours, and most graduates just carry their phone in a pocket (if your gown has one—spoiler: most don’t). I recommend a wrist wallet or a lanyard that clips to your belt loop, which technically isn’t a bag.

But if you’re stubborn like me, you’ll buy a clear plastic bag from Amazon for $5, which will look ridiculous but fit the rule. Pro tip: Avoid bags with logos bigger than a pin—the policy says “no prominent branding,” because apparently the university doesn’t want to be a walking billboard for Nike while you’re trying to get your diploma. Oh, the irony of a state school banning logos at a ceremony funded by logo-wearing alums.

Ohio State fall graduates and the university's president prepare for

The Final Walk (and the Bag Check)

On the big day, arrive early because the bag-check line is like the TSA’s slower, angrier cousin. They’ll inspect your clear bag like they’re looking for contraband goldfish crackers. One security guard might even ask, “Is that a lint roller or a tactical device?” Just smile and say, “It’s for my cap—because I’m an adult, I swear.”

And here’s a joke that might save you: Why did the OSU graduate’s bag get rejected? Because it contained too many hopes and dreams—which, sadly, are not listed as prohibited items, but they might be confiscated anyway. Seriously, don’t bring anything you’d be heartbroken to lose. The policy states you assume all risk for your stuff, which is Latino-speak for “we’re not responsible if your mom’s homemade cookies get crushed under a security guard’s boot.”

Ella’s Ohio State Graduation Session – Amy Ann Photography

The Surprising Upside

On the bright side, the clear bag policy has one unexpected benefit: you can see exactly how boring everyone else is. Gazing at the crowd, you’ll spot a thousand transparent bags holding the same three items: a phone, a tube of lip balm, and a crumpled program. It’s like a uniform of graduation blandness, but at least you won’t feel left out if your bag is tacky.

Also, the rule applies to guests, so don’t let your aunt bring her ten-foot-long handbag that doubles as a suitcase. You’ll save everyone from a bag-related family feud before the ceremony even starts. Consider it marriage counseling for the five minutes you’ll spend arguing in the parking lot before entering the stadium.

To Sum Up: Don’t Be That Person

Remember: this policy isn’t meant to ruin your day—it’s to keep 70,000 people safe while they watch you walk in a straight line for three hours. Follow the rules, and you’ll avoid the spectacle of being that grad who had to dump their bag in a trash can while their mom fumes in the stands. Bring a clear bag, a small clutch, or absolutely nothing—and let your diploma be the only thing you’re carrying out of there. Now go, graduate, and may your clear bag be as empty as your bank account after four years of tuition.