Here’s what you shouldn’t do for spring break: Go on a weeklong bender with your buddies, regardless of age, each night filled with drunken debauchery so unforgettable that it can only be erased by your hours of blackout, your next morning’s hangover playing proxy for memories.
No, seriously. I wasn’t saying that for comedic effect. I could recite alcohol abuse facts and figures until I’m blue in the face, but it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be anything some of you haven’t seen and ignored a thousand times before.
Let’s clear this up right from the start: I’m not anti-drinking. An Italian pasta dish without a good wine complement just isn’t the same. I am, however, against irresponsible drinking—drinking that definitely isn’t for the sake of quenching your thirst and palate. Unfortunately, it is precisely this irresponsible variety which I’ve grown accustomed to seeing.
Frankly, it pisses me off. The colossal stupidity on display every weekend here makes me disgusted with our corner of humanity. It is equally maddening that this is acceptable, even implictly encouraged in our environment, simply because it is “what college students do.”
To the souls drinking with intent to get wasted: I hardly even know where to start. It’s possible that it is a hopeless situation, but it’s my opinion that they’re just dumb. I don’t care what their grades are or what Stanford and Binet have to say about them. It takes a special sort of logic (none) to be OK with blacking out. Some of them even go so far as to brag about it. The claim is that they’re drinking so much and having such a great time that they have forgotten it by the next day. Personally, I like to be able to have memories of the great times I’ve enjoyed.
While we’re at it, what’s the point of a drunken hook-up? Not that I don’t understand the motivation for sex—in fact this is exactly the reason why I can’t wrap my head around the inebriated interlude. Circle yes if you agree: Sex feels good.
Then would it not stand to reason that you’d want to be fully aware, fully conscious, fully aroused, so as to wholly enjoy the experience? Would you sacrifice any of these and think the pleasure as deep, as powerful? Would you deprive your consciousness nirvana for no good reason?
Silly questions—of course you would.
Drinking to excess and then some just to impress people does not make you cool. It makes you look insecure. I would rather endure college friendless than be admired for my ability to pour toxin down my throat.
Although I’m a funny sort of guy, I’m perfectly happy to throw a special finger at anyone whose friendship would require I impress them on their conditions. If you can’t do that, then perhaps some self-esteem work is in order. Life will not be easy if you can’t make confidence without a bottle.
Some of those who disagree with me have no doubt convinced themselves that they need a little alcohol to feel socially comfortable and relaxed. It’s only a drink or two, though—certainly not enough to get drunk. I’m not talking to them, right?
Wrong. They are relying on a substance outside themselves to handle normal social situations, perhaps even depending on it. It’s foolish to think that’s more than a stone’s throw from a full-blown psychological addiction. It’s a small wonder that more will not turn out to be alcoholics post-graduation.
What angers me the most, though, is that it seems most college kids are just using booze to hide. When we’re drunk, we can claim to be someone other than our true selves; we are no longer letting anyone in on our true passions, which we keep to ourselves like dirty secrets.
There’s a certain vulnerability that comes with being passionate, especially about life and the people around you. Yet the most beautiful people I know do this fearlessly. They have just as much fun doing what they love as others have on Saturday night.
Is alcohol all that we have to love? Are we too scared of being laughed at for being passionate about something else?
I’m not. I’m a romantic and an idealist. If I could change just our small part of the world, I would. Nothing would make me happier than to see the obsession with alcohol fade away.
Of course, that won’t ever happen. I’m tilting at a windmill.
Jeremy Walch is a Pratt junior. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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