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Tag Archives: underage drinking

50 Shades of Purple, Chapter Two: The Battle for the Keg

10 Jul

“At first I was like, ‘You know, it might not be such a great idea to go skinny dipping in the Amazon with a bottle of Patron and the entire San Diego Chargers Charger Girls squad,’ but then I was just like, ‘YOLO.'”
-Morton O. Schapiro

Don’t worry, the sex scene’s coming soon.

It’s a Monday evening, and my roommates are pregaming the pregame for the Keg. I’ve had a pretty stressful day in Journalism 301, filled with lots of hard-hitting pestering of innocent yuppies reporting for my enterprise story, and it’s time for me to kick back and relax. I pop a bottle of Peach Andre and my night has begun.

“How was your interview with Ross Packingham?” asks Beverly Brooke, my roommate and consummate frenemy.

“Intriguing. There’s something secretive about him that I can’t figure out. Is it true he once had a threesome with a Theta and Willie the Wildcat in the library stacks?”

“I heard it was with Stephen Colbert and two theater majors on South Beach while Andrew Bird played in the background,” Beave answers, “But that’s just what I read once on College ACB.”

We finish off our bottles of Andre while watching Say Yes to the Dress and head over to Alpha Delta for the true pregame. The second we step into the basement, our senses are assaulted by skunked beer, bros in tank-tops, and Katy Perry. Lots of Katy Perry.

“WOOOOOOOOOO” shouts Beave as “Teenage Dream” comes on, and immediately begs a frat brother who looks suspiciously similar to an Asian Nic Cage (and almost as belligerent) to let her take a beer pong celeb shot.

I leave to get myself a drink. I pour myself some Mohawk vodka into a solo cup of Busch Light, which I affectionately dub ‘The Bobb,’ because the drink’s always a party and smells like piss.

The Alpha Delta brothers are getting rowdy. Some jackass tries to hit on me by asking which Vice President I’m most sexually attracted to, only to leave the next moment muttering to himself about the similarities between House Republicans and gonorrhea.

“KEG! KEG! KEG!” The Alpha Delta brothers shout. I down my drink and steel myself for the heinous that is to come.

————————————–

HE’S HERE! OMIGOD HE’S HERE!!!

It takes me a little while to recognize the man before my eyes, but after I adjust to the hedonism around me and get over the brief torrent of terror that shot through me as the Keg bouncer took an additional five seconds to ensure that I truly am the 25-year-old Beyonce Lovato from Anchorage, Alaska that my ID said I was, I realize that I really am beholding the elusive Ross Packingham, HERE, in the flesh, at the Keg!

Gorgeous as all hell and with a gleam in his eye, Packingham is freaking the night away with some co-ed like he’s Channing Tatum on ecstasy.

“Carla!” He shouts, “Carla Rossi! Over here!” He’s beckoning me over to join him and his slam-piece on the dance floor, and I head his way.

And then, with a tremendous blast, the door of the Keg comes crashing down. A dark, shrouded figure looms large in the doorway. For a moment everything stops, douchebags freeze mid-thrust where they were dancing, and even that one townie playing pool turns to look. The only sound is that of Ludacris’ verse on “Baby” as Mayor Tisdahl, clad in combat boots, night-vision goggles, and a James Taylor t-shirt, fully armed with a crowbar and flanked by a cadre of Evanston cops, steps into the neon light of the Coors Light sign.

“My sources tell me that there’s been underage drinking in this establishment,” Mayor Tisdahl growls, tossing the disemboweled corpse of an engineer into the stunned crowd. “You can thank this snitch here. Now I’m going to shut this motherfucker down once and for all.”

All hell breaks loose as Elizabeth Tisdahl and her police posse attack.

Intoxicated and sweaty bodies frantically jostle with one another (not unlike the Keg on a normal Monday night) as Tisdahl brutally swings her crowbar with reckless abandon at poor defenseless English majors and ETHS seniors while the cops gleefully cite students for underage drinking by the score.

“That’s for yacking on the Evanston Post Office!” screams Tisdahl as she brains a Comm Studies student with her crowbar as he tries to scuttle up a stripper pole.

“And this will teach you to holler about blowjobs on MY streets!” she adds, sucker-punching a Tri Delt like she’s Michael Barrett squaring off against A.J.

“Say blowjob one more time. I FUCKING DARE YOU!”

I can’t bear the sight of her pile-driving two foreign students through a window, and quickly duck under a booth and pray that God will save me, or at least turn off the Bieber that’s still playing if I am to be summarily executed by Mayor Tisdahl in this den of debauchery.

The Keg has all but cleared out as I cower in fear, watching Tisdahl and her cops methodically pour big cups of Bud Light and handles of Svedka and Wild Turkey all over the Keg’s walls and floors.

Tisdahl shoulders her crowbar and lights a cigarette. Turning with a menacing gait, she addresses the few remaining students.

“Based on what I see here, I think that the Keg has some grave public safety concerns. I’m revoking the Keg’s license,” she flips her cigarette onto the booze-soaked floor, “Permanently.”

The flames erupt immediately, burning away years of sin and memories. Students scream, and Tisdahl laughs, but just as she turns to leave a gallant figure, wearing nothing but an enormous purple cape, bursts through the Keg’s window riding on the back of a dashing wildcat.

“MORTY SCHAPIRO!” everybody cheers as the lionhearted president rushes to their defense.

His body is lithe and stately, glistening in the fiery inferno as his beard bristles with the white-hot intensity of a hundred thousand Pat Fitzgeralds.

“Oh no you don’t, Tisdahl!” cries Morty, slapping the Mayor back with his massive appendage. More cheers from the students. Morty rips off a stripper pole to serve as his quarterstaff (he already has a full staff down below).

“I’m going to give you the Chet Haze treatment tonight, baby,” shouts Morty. “You’ll be white and purple when I’m done with you.”

Then Morty sets to work, fighting off cops left and right with the help of his trusty wildcat. Those police officers who are too foolish not to run away suffer the awful fate of his beard, and Morty and his steed finish them off faster than the NCAA finishing off Northwestern’s March Madness dreams.

Yet somehow in all the confusion, Mayor Tisdahl managed to escape, cursing Morty and swearing that her revenge is nigh. Few seemed to care, however, as Morty ripped open a fire hydrant with his bare hands, soused the Keg’s raging flames, and turned the club into an all-night slip-and-slide.

“Come here,” a voice says gruffly. I turn with shock and look at the man gripping my hand. It’s Packingham. “This way.”

He leads me to the Popcorn machine, raps it three times with his knuckles, opens up the top, and helps me inside. “Follow me,” Ross says, pushing a button and revealing a secret passageway that travels out of the popcorn machine and leads to a mysterious tunnel. I follow, obediently, trusting Ross completely.

“I hereby declare the Keg re-instated!” bellows the victorious, and still mostly-nude, Morty. “I wish the Keg luck with their newly instated Lifetime License to Rage!”

I can barely hear the cheers as I go deeper and deeper down the tunnel, guided only by the mysterious Ross Packingham.

To be continued

Chapter one of 50 Shades of Purple can be found HERE.

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Introducing: The Sherman Ave Swag Shoppe

30 Jan

Betches Love This
Could it be…!?

Has Northwestern’s premier political/historical/alcoholic-humor blog finally started up a capitalistic endeavor designed to raise enough money to pay off their gambling IOU’s from last year’s Northwestern-University of Chicago Women’s Ice Hockey match by selling you shit with their name emblazoned across it!?

That’s RIGHT!

Sherman Ave has got a great new Swag Shoppe just for you heinous kids running amok in downtown Evanston. Protest authority, sexual mores, your shitty TA, Illinois drinking laws, and more with our brand new merchandise line!

With an ever increasing range of products, there’s sure to be something to please you!

From shirts to sweatpants, we’ll try to cover up as much of your body as possible. Want bootylicious lingerie? We’ve got it. Want to proudly display your affection for Morty or underage drinking at the Keg? We’ve got just the shirts for you.

We even have a bandanna to gag you with if you open your mouth!

Too far? Well, we guess that’s just #HEINOUS.

Check out the new Sherman Ave Swag Shoppe HERE!!!

Drinking at Northwestern

27 Feb

Last Friday, several Friends of the Ave were written up for drinking in the dorms by two CAs. To be fair, the students who were written up for underage possession of alcohol in the dorms were violating Northwestern’s Student Code of Conduct, and the CAs were simply doing their job by enforcing and executing the rules. But the recent incident highlights numerous fundamental problems with Northwestern’s alcohol policy, the role of CAs in dormitories, and the drinking culture in general at Northwestern University.

The main problem lies in a University alcohol policy that is utterly incapable of dealing with the exigent realities of student underage drinking. No matter how valorous the obliteration of underage drinking at Northwestern might seem, the harsh truth is that underage students who want to drink in college will drink in college. Considering the extraordinary amount of resources it would take for the University to annihilate underage drinking on campus, it stands to reason that Northwestern should alter its alcohol policy to focus on preventing and protecting students from the dangers of excessive drinking, instead of promoting a policy that fosters increasingly dangerous underage drinking practices and mistrustful student-CA relations.

As the policy stands, no student under the age of 21 can even be in the presence of alcohol on campus. Such an inflexible and intolerant policy forces students to either drink copious amounts in their locked rooms to hide from their CAs, or else head north to the Frats, where hedonism and free alcohol reign supreme. Both results pose exceedingly dangerous risks to student health. The policy promotes binge drinking by forcing students to hole up in their rooms with a handle of Smirnoff instead of moderately sipping on less-potent alcohol in the open, or else driving students to the Frats, where the only control on how much you drink is how long the line stretches.

Besides promoting binge drinking, the current NU alcohol policy also leaves students unprotected from the harmful effects of excessive drinking brought on by the policy in the first place. How can CAs monitor the health of the students they are supposed to be protecting if underage students are forced to lock their doors from CAs in order to drink? It is impossible for a CA to communicate with students in order to promote responsible drinking or provide necessary medical attention if the students are hidden from view or lost in the sweaty mass of human bodies in the basement of a Frat. Without a medical amnesty policy in place, students are at an even greater risk from excessive drinking.

One of the most frustrating aspects of the current policy is how little uniformity there is among how CAs choose to enforce the rules, considering the extent to which Northwestern relies on CAs to enforce its alcohol policy. Most CAs at NU do a fantastic job balancing their duties as enforcers, protectors, and positive role models. But so many different CAs have so many different ways of dealing with the alcohol policy that it is almost impossible to discern any sort of comprehensive campus-wide philosophy. On top of that, certain CAs, instead of upholding the Division of Student Affairs‘ requirement that CAs “exhibit a positive attitude and high level of personal integrity in order to serve as positive role models for their residents,” display exactly the base and dangerous behavior that they are supposed to guard against.

Underage drinking is the reality of life at Northwestern. Instead of promoting an ignorant policy that creates more problems than it corrects, the University must take steps to address the problems raised by underage drinking in a relevant and meaningful way. In order to promote responsible and healthy drinking, and diminish the destructive effects of binge-drinking, Northwestern should adopt a policy akin to Washington University’s “Open Door” policy, which allows for responsible drinking so long as a student’s door is open for a WashU RA. An “Open Door” concept allows for increased scrutiny for CAs, improved relations between CAs and students, and an overarching sense that, if you act like an adult, you should be treated like an adult. Another potential improvement to Northwestern’s drinking culture would be an on-campus bar, which would allow for the University to promote responsible drinking in a controlled area, a move that would also decrease the risk of evoking the ire of Evanston residents with loud conversations about bl**jobs.

According to President Schapiro, in an interview with North by Northwestern, “We all know prohibition doesn’t work… but I do think our campuses would be safer if we had an 18-year-old drinking age.” It is useless, not to mention dangerous, to continue adhering to the current policy. If, to quote the Northwestern University student handbook, “Rules are an organized set of principles designed and written for the common good, put forth by those who care for the community,” why hasn’t Northwestern University instituted a new alcohol policy written for the common good in order to benefit the common good?