I witnessed something two weekends ago that completely boggled my mind. A friend of mine woke up and decided he wanted to get drunk. I must say, he picked the best day for the task. On the morn of the Tigers’ biggest game to date – the face-off with Auburn that would determine the tangibility of the Tigers hope for a BCS championship – alcohol on campus abounded. My friend satiated his desire to experience that glorious feeling of being drunk by doing two “keg stands,” one of which earned him a record of outlasting every participant that day and accepting most alcoholic beverages offered to him. His escapade garnered him a prize for all other alcohol-loving University students to envy: throwing up in Tiger Stadium. Usually journalistic integrity mandates I investigate more before commenting on the subject, getting drunk myself before offering my opinion. Some have already told me, including my aforementioned friend and The Daily Reveille’s opinion staff, getting drunk is something I won’t understand until I experience it. Maybe that will come later. Nonetheless, my peers’ fascination with getting trashed never ceases to amaze me. Tell me, is the party so much grander when you experience it on your knees with your head in a toilet that has probably hosted some pretty scary characters before you? The concept of people planning to get drunk, which is not unique to my friend, is foreign to me. I always thought inebriation was something done by accident – like Britney Spears getting married or Lindsay Lohan hitting people with her car. Never before have I seen so many people who seem to live for one thing: the joy of being completely and utterly drunk. It seems to me sobriety is the new virginity. It is something I must cherish because many people have already traded in the boring model of a few sips for the more glorious model of hard partying. I often wonder if I am the only person who has resisted the urge to tango with the lady in the Bud Light dress. It often seems before you can call yourself a true college student, you must have spent at least one night hunched over spewing forth the chalupa you just waited an hour to buy. But as American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson sings, “Three months, and I’m still sober.”
—-Contact Allen Womble at [email protected]