COLUMN: A Shot in the Arm

From Shawn Klein's "Jedi Mind Tricks," Fall '95 Ever since I was a freshperson, it dangled threateningly over our heads. (The horror, the horror.) At times, when the imminence of the threat loomed particularly large, small groups of us would huddle together for support, like children to their mothers after watching The Day After. It could never happen, we comforted ourselves. Surely, there was some force of universal justice that would intervene when things got too unbearable. We would get through our four years of Penn unscathed. Yes, Bring Your Own Beer could never really happen. It just couldn't. We convinced ourselves of that truth. But the tide began to perceivably change right before winter break. Whispers of a new alcohol policy circulated. Rumors gained momentum. And then came the chapter meetings where each house was made to deliberate on what options we might have left. Our particular meeting (I'm a brother in ZBT) was long and hard thought. We covered every angle. We pondered every possibility. But it was all over as we knew it would be from the beginning. Our doom was accepted. A terminal patient cannot outlogic the angel of death. We would have to follow BYOB. The first week of real enforcement was coming up. We saw no way around the policy. And oddly, we didn't really want one. For me, BYOB was analogous to going to the pediatrician for a shot when I was little. My sister and I both had an inoperable fear of needles. We hated them. Any mention would strike fear into our hearts. No one spoke on the annual car ride to our doctor's office. The two of us sat quietly in the back seat, praying to God above, that this time we would get no shot. But we could never be certain until our charts were looked over and judgement was rendered. The tension was awful. We used to fight hysterically over who would have to go first. (I can vividly remember both of us running out into the waiting room sans skivies when our doctor tried to pull that sly move where he approached you like the smiling devil, one hand outstretched ready to grab your arm and the other behind his back with the needle. You can be sure that trick never caught us twice.) But I soon decided that it was better to go first. Half the pain was the anxiety leading up to the shot, the psychological discomfort of having it in my future instead of in my past. To finally have it over with felt great. To be sure, my arm would hurt for the next few days, but at least I got to scream while it was happening and really make my sister panic. So ZBT would get BYOB over with. If we faced it, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Once it was the norm, once people knew this was simply how it was going to be, Penn social life would be good again. As lemons are sometimes sweet, we even managed a bit of optimism. Our first late night under the new rules was this past Friday. In the cold, miserable weather, it figured to be an unremarkable event. People had heard the BYOB myths before. They wouldn't bring their own beer. And given the strict enforcement of the policy, I figured everyone would be sent away or forced to pay cover. The party should have sucked. What a pleasant surprise that it did not at all. (At points the party was even too crowded.) The last people there hung out until four. Everyone I talked to had a good time. Although we had been handed what had been a proven social death sentence at other schools, we pulled through. The truth of it all is that, maybe BYOB can work. If our late night was any indication, I'll probably stop crying about it as the official policy. If BYOB can be pulled off, Greek life will have taken a strong step toward ensuring its own survival, in the often hostile climate of GAC (Wait a minute. They're on our side. My bad.) and the University as a whole. That, in combination, with the fact that the good, non-Floridian fake ID's I'm selling have doubled in market value, will certainly make this a good last semester. Shawn Klein is a senior biological basis of behavior major from Livingston, N.J. Jedi Mind Tricks appears alternate Thursdays.