Going Undercover
I graduated from Colby College several years ago, and look back fondly on my time there. So I was shocked when an article came across the AP Wire telling me that Colby College is going to have undercover police officers sneaking into parties to cut down on "...the dramatic increase underage drinking." That didn't seem like Colby to me.
Colby is the kind of place where the alums get together, and tell long, haunting, pointless stories, and make people like Mr. Scoop and Mrs. Manion apoplectic with rage. In my memory, Colby is a magical place, where every Spring the snow melts and you can still see where "We fuck sheep" was painted onto the roof of the old DKE house.
My reaction to this information (the undercover cops, not the sheep fucking) was twofold - "Do they think the average student is completely brain dead? And, "Who do I have to kill to get that job?" Colby only has about 1700 students. By December you can recognize pretty much everybody by sight, if not name.
All I can imagine is some forty year old cop with a wearing an ill-fitting Maroon 5 T-shirt and a mustache standing in a corner and hoping nobody notices him. It's like some horrible parody of 21 Jump Street, but with Andy Sipowicz playing the Johnny Depp role.
I think the whole cop thing is a solution in search of a problem. As my old creative writing professor used to say (shortly before he went off to become a woman, but that's another story) you go to college to learn exactly how much it takes to make you throw up. And dammit, denying these kids a safe and nurturing environment in which to puke on each other is removing a vital piece of growing up.
And I really doubt that there's been a serious increase in underage drinking. The only way the underaged kids could drink more than we did would be with a beer IV. We didn't abuse alcohol. We buried it at a crossroads with a stake through its heart. We had a game called QB4. The rules were simple. Four players, one keg. No one leaves the room until the keg is empty. Now that's alcohol abuse.
Nonetheless, for the public good I am prepared to put on my Colby sweatshirt and play beer die with the kids. It's like the saying "Set a thief to catch a thief" except in this case it's "Set a Manion loose in a room full of drunk twenty year olds to catch something that will take a great deal of explaining to Mrs. Manion."
When even I recognize a plan as a truly bad idea, you know you're on to a serious loser, people.
LM
Colby is the kind of place where the alums get together, and tell long, haunting, pointless stories, and make people like Mr. Scoop and Mrs. Manion apoplectic with rage. In my memory, Colby is a magical place, where every Spring the snow melts and you can still see where "We fuck sheep" was painted onto the roof of the old DKE house.
My reaction to this information (the undercover cops, not the sheep fucking) was twofold - "Do they think the average student is completely brain dead? And, "Who do I have to kill to get that job?" Colby only has about 1700 students. By December you can recognize pretty much everybody by sight, if not name.
All I can imagine is some forty year old cop with a wearing an ill-fitting Maroon 5 T-shirt and a mustache standing in a corner and hoping nobody notices him. It's like some horrible parody of 21 Jump Street, but with Andy Sipowicz playing the Johnny Depp role.
I think the whole cop thing is a solution in search of a problem. As my old creative writing professor used to say (shortly before he went off to become a woman, but that's another story) you go to college to learn exactly how much it takes to make you throw up. And dammit, denying these kids a safe and nurturing environment in which to puke on each other is removing a vital piece of growing up.
And I really doubt that there's been a serious increase in underage drinking. The only way the underaged kids could drink more than we did would be with a beer IV. We didn't abuse alcohol. We buried it at a crossroads with a stake through its heart. We had a game called QB4. The rules were simple. Four players, one keg. No one leaves the room until the keg is empty. Now that's alcohol abuse.
Nonetheless, for the public good I am prepared to put on my Colby sweatshirt and play beer die with the kids. It's like the saying "Set a thief to catch a thief" except in this case it's "Set a Manion loose in a room full of drunk twenty year olds to catch something that will take a great deal of explaining to Mrs. Manion."
When even I recognize a plan as a truly bad idea, you know you're on to a serious loser, people.
LM
posted by Lance Manion at 6:00 PM
6 Comments:
"...I really doubt that there's been a serious increase in underage drinking..."
There isn't one. And there wasn't one when we were freshmen and Keith Dupuis ('93) mananged to get buzzed and uncoordinated enough to fall out a window during the first all campus Student Center party (and given that the windows don't open all the way - that was motivation on his part!). But lawsuit happy parents will affect a college drinking culture that way. That and the damn law.
Stupid awful law.
Let's road trip to Colby and abuse fledgling beer die players...
you should road trip to Colby and Flagellate the fledgling beer die players 'cause that's what I thought you wrote instead of 'fledgling' at first and it sounded quite amusing.
I'd totally go under cover as long as they let me drink until I couldn't stand on my own and would be allowed to sex up drunk 19 year old college virgins.
What?
This story kinda threw into sharp relief how I feel as a 35 year old grad student who's always been barely a scrabble above the poverty level, lurking about the campus of a prestigious private university where beautiful, wealthy people between the ages of 18-22 frolic.
There but for the grace of Sallie Mae loans go I. Thankfully, I'm not invited to any trendy parties and don't have to concern myself with anyone's blood alcohol level.
I hear ya, Amandarama. Stupid Dupius kid, ruining it for everyone else.
Ithiel, I'm thinking a fledgling/ flagellation combo. Possibly with a side of flanges.
I think we have a plan, Sara. But don't feel like you have to limit yourself to the virgins. They're in short supply at Colby. There's a funny story associated with that (for another time).
I feel your pain, Ari. I've been there. Poverty sucks. And grad school wasn't as much fun as I'd thought it would be. If you don't mind my asking, where are you at?
I am at Southern Methodist University, jewel in the crown of Dallas' upper crust.
It's situated right in the middle of Dallas, in University Park, which is a strange little separatist burgh, an island of class surrounded by urban detritus (poor people).
Oddly enough, it's still a great school academically and I love it there despite the fact that I weigh far too much, don't wear designer anything, don't get bikini waxes, and the only Rush with which I have EVER concerned myself is a Canadian power trio.
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