Taking the fun out of Fling

Dear students who live in the Quadrangle, Spring Fling is little more than a week away, and you may have noticed the increased security at the two gates. Penn is highly committed to minimizing drinking inside the Quad during Fling weekend. And now, in an extra-early effort, it's greatly expanded its program to catch offenders.

In years past, the procedure called for your bags to be searched starting on Wednesday. This year, however, searches began a few days ago, about two weeks before Fling. Graduate advisers also tell me there will be more cops than ever patrolling Fling, including some undercover officers.

You might be wondering why Penn instituted such a policy and who's responsible for it.

A lot of people are.

First, there is the faceless man in the administration who pushed for the crackdown. He doesn't actually remember being young. As far as he knows, he's been 47 years old for 47 straight years -- he popped out of the womb wearing a business suit and holding an espresso. He thinks rap music is corrupting the youth and guns somehow fire themselves. He firmly believes that one day he alone will craft a rule that will prevent Penn students from drinking.

(OK, show of hands: How many of you think anyone will ever, ever get college students to stop drinking?)

So how does this bureaucrat get his kicks? He instructs the house deans to have GAs and residential advisers (some of who are in the carpool lane to loserville) track down and capture drunk freshmen.

Most RAs and GAs will turn a blind eye because they were freshmen once, but a crusading few "I don't drink so no one else should either" goons are on the prowl -- eyes and ears open.

I regret to say, however, that many, many of you freshmen are terribly, terribly stupid, and you are going to get caught. How will you get caught? One of you Paris Hiltons will pack two dozen people into your room, big enough to accommodate the keg and your bed but nothing else. The 18-year olds inside are your new 24 highly intoxicated, Uggs- and Lacoste-wearing friends.

You're intelligent, because, hey, you got into Penn (with the help of daddy's eight-figure salary and your $9,000 Kaplan tutor). Thus it's surprising that you won't be smart enough to think, "Hey,, we might be making quite a bit of noise -- perhaps I should try to quiet everyone down, especially the future St. A's brother hanging upside down out of my window."

Alas, the unbridled commotion in your room will soon summon the authorities. Up will show the "never going to get laid" GA, who will be taking names -- your names.

(Tip for freshmen: When a GA questions you, don't lie. I know it worked when you had to explain to mom why you were home so late after prom, but now I'd refrain. I tried lying to a GA, and it didn't end well.)

The GA, flush with a "I was never cool in high school but I'm God now" pride, will then pass on the names of the offending freshmen to her superior.

There's a good chance her superior will be at the middle level of the Khmer Rouge hierarchy. He will be responsible for doling out your swift and cruel punishment, like forcing you to take the alcohol-awareness test, which you'd have to be in a semi-unconscious state to fail. Like a male Nurse Ratched, this man seems to have only one goal in life: He must keep you from having fun. His chief enemy is the great American rebellious spirit, and he regrets he wasn't one of the national guardsmen at Kent State.

The as-yet unidentified force behind this whole charade might be your own father. That's right, "Psycho Dad." Unlike "47-year-old administrator," your "Psycho Dad" has vivid memories of college, when he did all the things he's telling you not to do, making him a hypocrite of Jerry Falwellian proportions. His frat boy past, including "the camel incident," is not up for discussion. He still calls you "my little angel," never realizing that you like to do lines of coke off your Louis Vuitton handbag. He wishes that Penn would do nightly room checks at 10:30, and he thinks that the University should listen to him -- he did donate a building.

Are you tired of people like this telling you what to do? Well, I'd recommend sneaking as much alcohol into the Quad as possible before the AlliedBarton guards start actually searching. I made it through yesterday with three beer bottles in my backpack just to test them.

You can also try being a little responsible by not tearing down bathroom doors or throwing up on Spruce Street.

Other than that, go Woodstock next weekend.

Alex Weinstein is a junior history major from Bridgeport, W.V. Straight to Hell appears on Thursdays.

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