My weekend: After hearing of the "Police Yourself" campaignlaunched by campus administration to curb irresponsible studentpartying, I attempted to obey.
I had help. For the umpteenth consecutive weekend, I was notinvited to a party. I attribute this mostly to the fact that I haveno life. Thus, peer pressure was not a factor -- again.
Making life even easier, I do not do illegal drugs. While I donot judge people who do illegal drugs, I will say withoutreservation that your music sucks.
With drugs, peer pressure and sucky music eliminated, I checkedmy alcohol supply.
Opening my refrigerator, I discovered a meager total of threebeers -- one of which most certainly has been in there sinceDecember.
So basically, I had two beers, plus one for when company comesover.
Next, I opened my wallet and found no money, which handicappedmy ability to purchase more beer. Clearly, I predicted, this"policing myself" thing would be easier than expected.
Before opening one of the two beers, I carded myself to makesure I was still of legal drinking age. (I did this basically toboost my ego. As I'm pushing 30, being carded is flattering.)
Had I somehow caught myself in the act of underage drinking, Iwould've been forced to handcuff myself and spend the night in mymakeshift drunk-tank, also known as my bathtub.
Handcuffing myself was tempting, because the only handcuffs Iown are furry. However, my identification checked out (and mygirlfriend was asleep), so these cuffs were not necessary.
Next, I asked myself if I would need a ride later. As I wasstanding in my own apartment with no money, I determined I wouldnot need transportation.
Relieved, I searched for my bottle opener. Because of keenlyhoned partying skills learned back when Ball State didn't suck, Ineeded to look no further than my own keychain.
So, I paid tribute to Lawrence from "Office Space" ("That'salright, I got it.") and with that, I became a one-man partyingmachine. I like the night life; I like to boogie.
Warning: The remainder of this opinion piece was written underthe influence of one beer.
Because no party is complete without music, I put on the new,yet-to-be-released Wilco album, which magically appeared on mycomputer Friday.
My one-man revelry was short-lived. I had not considered theundesirables who might attend my little shindig.
Yes, I had overlooked one important factor: I am a Muncie nativeand resident. With a townie officially in my apartment, the realdanger was in my home.
Luckily, I do not own a weapon. My girlfriend has a nicecollection of knives, but those are for chopping vegetables and arenot allowed in the dishwasher.
I worried that the fight would come down to me vs. me,hand-to-hand, and I would inevitably kick my own ass. (Perhaps Iwould use those furry handcuffs!)
Then I had an epiphany: I'm from Muncie, but I'm not a repeatcriminal offender, and I'm not walking the streets with a loadedgun. I'm in control, thanks.
In fact, the vast majority of Ball State students are the sameway, every weekend.
So maybe Muncie should police itself better, because losers likeme aren't the problem.
Sorry, that's the one beer talking.
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Write to John at kingseyeland@bsu.edu
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