From Rugby Road to Vinegar Hill, first-year College student Andrew will NOT be getting drunk tonight. The once pre-Commerce hopeful told The Cavalier Daily that a third invitation to an event with the word “Hallowasted” somewhere in the title is propelling him to relinquish a life of being told by his peers to “hold my beer” and “watch this bro.”
“It wasn’t always this way!” chirps Andrew, explaining that after his completion of the alcohol wise module informed him that he drinks 117 percent more than the average college student, he felt confident exploring University nightlife. But, like pulling Everclear, the reality of the situation provided a robustly unpleasant shock to his system.
“Unfortunately this is the kind of thing we expect around this time of year,” one dean commented. “We tell our students this is a work hard play environment, but some just can’t bring it. They usually go to Tech.” Such is the case for Andrew. This is college, not high school. There are different expectations. Here at the University nobody is going to hold your hand while you shotgun a six pack of beer. You’ve got to forge your own path.
If only Andrew could have held on a little, he might have seen the great benefits to getting plastered at Thomas Jefferson’s University. Fourth-year College student Mott points out, “If there’s anywhere to get crunk, it’s in the community of trust.” He adds, “Whenever I streak the lawn, I know my clothes will be there when I get back.”
Reportedly, Andrew couldn’t come to terms with the fact that the same kids who pulled As in his classes could turn around a few hours later and revel like they didn’t give an F. Recalling his first fraternity experience, he described being met with the stress-fracture-inducing death grip pre-Commerce students commonly call a “handshake” before being offered a beer. “That Keystone Light just slipped out of my hand!” Andrew offered, concluding the exchange was a prime example of the physical defects associated with boisterous after hours merriment he was coming to expect at school.
“The ‘balance’ thing is real here,” pronounces Andrew, who remains intimidated that studying and partying are executed at such an intense level. How can the same school whose unofficial mascot is a fish known for its excessive drinking capability turn out kids who will sit in a library for hours to finish an assignment? “It’s like they can’t pick a side!” he exclaims, adding half-heartedly that he was particularly shaken this week when he learned Club Clem was not in fact an affinity group for collegiates with STDs.
Today, Andrew joins a community whose mascot is “The HokieBird,” which, next to the pokie, stands as America’s second favorite kind of hokie. He comments he would love to revisit grounds, “probably around the middle of summer, when things are less raucous.”
Leigh Engel is a Humor writer.
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