AN OLD maxim suggests that during our youth, it's okay to be "young and dumb." Unfortunately in our after-hours habits, many University students have taken the latter part of this advice a little too literally. The staple of University social life has become a stream of hazy weekends full of drinking games. Of all the pointless and inane drinking games out there, beer pong is by far the most disconcerting.
It is quite sad that in college you cannot be culturally fluent without knowing the details, rudiments and rules of beer pong. And yet, beer pong is psychological torture for the hygienically minded and spiritual torture for those among us with interesting inner lives.
The alcoholic element of beer pong sets it apart from other entertaining games. Leisurely games are meant to be mindless, but they are not meant to alter your state of mind. They also allow our competitive natures to thrive in a friendly manner and to build friendships among participants. Granted, beer pong can serve a similar purpose, but making it the center of undergraduate social life cheapens our interactions with one another. Drinking games do not produce the same social utility that comparable games like ping pong or darts do because beer pong is meant primarily to facilitate the quick consumption of cheap beer.
Perhaps if beer pong were relegated to the back rooms of sketchy parties there would be little to complain about, but beer pong is more and more becoming the focal point of our weekend activities. You almost cannot attend an undergraduate party without seeing eager undergraduates dunk dirty ping pong balls into half filled cups of Natural Light beer. If you walk down 14th street on Saturday morning you are very likely to see front porches full of empty beer cans and makeshift beer pong tables. There are Web sites dedicated to improving one's throwing form; you can buy beer pong kits; facebook groups hail the glory of beer pong champions; and unfortunately, many undergraduates prefer beer pong to higher forms of interaction.
Some might say that if I do not like beer pong, I should not play it. Good point. Though I was persuaded by peer pressure to participate in beer pong in the past, I simply do not anymore. Yet abstaining from such a popular activity does not mitigate the wider cultural problems involved or negate what it might say about our inner lives. Is it that we as undergraduates are so depressingly uninterested in each other that we must avoid meaningful conversation for the pull of dunking a ball into a cup? Or maybe it's that we ourselves have nothing real to say.
My revelation about beer pong hit me when I was helping a friend set up for a party. It was raining outside and there was only room to put the beer pong table on the back porch. She started getting anxious about the weather and confessed that no one would have fun if there was not a beer pong table. When undergraduate "fun" rises and sets on a silly drinking game, we would do well to examine our habits.
We all have busy schedules and need the weekend to take our mind off the grind. I am in no way a tyrant against fun or a prudish teetotaler. Alcohol in moderation is wonderful; I am a strong advocate of a lower drinking age in this country and enjoy the ameliorating effects that alcohol can have on one's disposition and social life. Alcohol, however, serves best as a social lubricant, not as the means to escape reality and participate in utterly meaningless activities.
As a cultural phenomenon, the inability to make intelligent and interesting conversation while among friends should concern us. Many foolish students turn to drinking games to fill the void between inhibition and boredom. But if you seek something higher in your social interaction, find an old friend and have a real conversation or form a friendship with someone that will produce more than an awkward wave in passing at the dining hall. Talk about books, life, politics, relevant ideas or learn something wise from a fellow student.
Honestly, if you don't find any of these things interesting or worthy of your leisure time, then you might want to examine what your tuition dollars are really paying for. Instead of choosing the path of least resistance and allowing ourselves to be young and dumb, we should instead absorb the wise words of Paul Claudel: "Youth was made not for pleasure, but for heroism."
Christa Byker is a Cavalier Daily associate editor. She can be reached at cbyker@cavalierdaily.com.