Man, what a week. Cabrini Day, “Popcorn” and the PAC championships in Cross Country (that’s a four-peat, in case you’ve lost track). I could write just about anything.
But I’m going to write about the Fall Formal. I mean, it’s not every week that you get to write about beautiful women, angry janitors and cowboys all in the same building all at the same time. Makes for great copy.
The outside world does not like us college students. Just about everyone wants their own kids to go to college, but nobody wants college students as their neighbors. Or apartment guests. And sometimes, but not always, we earn our bad name.
During our Spring Formal at the Hilton last year, there was a rowdy, out of control Bar Mitzvah party who I suspect set off the fire alarm and tore off one of the men’s room stall doors. Somehow, the management assumed it was us. So, along with our trusty disc jockey Weederwax, we went ahead and planned to have our Fall Formal at the Radison in King of Prussia.
Now, from what I hear, some students got in trouble for having a scavenger hunt and caused about $600 worth of damage to the hotel. Also, some kids were running around on the roof, some threw ice at the apartment manager, you get the picture. (Yeah, I know that’s all heresay, but hey, this is the Perspectives Section. Please.) After that, the hotel sent around a horde of management, security and janitors to bust some heads. They searched students’ rooms in a style that would make the most stringent Public Safety officer say “That’s just not cool.”
On our way down to the dance (which several unfortunate students were no allowed to go to), I pointed out to one of the more talkative janitors that this is supposed to be “independant living.” She then swung at me with a mop, but I was too quick. I run Cross Country.
The dance itself was all right, but nothing to write home about. The only weird part was how hard it was to get a drink down there. I could buy a gun showing less forms of ID than they required to buy a beer. Thanks NRA!
The final insult came when I thought I would stop in Club 92.5, the country music bar. Figuring it looked kind of like Partners Pub with line dancing, I thought I’d stop in. The bouncer wouldn’t let me in, however, because I wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat. But neither was he! I guess I just looked to collegiate.
So what does all this mean? Well, my original title was going to be “Adults Are Mean and Don’t Want College Students To Have Any Fun,” but I don’t think that’s entirely fair. As the self-appointed voice of reason, I’ll admit that some of our students are jackasses, and should be shunned.
Our community doesn’t like us. I think the only reason we’re allowed to say around is because we have a cool gym. Every time one of us messes up, it makes life that much harder for everyone else. So, for all the screw-ups, bloody grow up already. I sure as hell ain’t gonna lecture anyone on underage drinking, but some students who can’t handle their booze are giving it a real bad name.
And everyone else, if we do go back to the Radison next semester, come prepared with a cowboy hat. They fit in better than we do.
