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James Dean
University of Michigan - Ann Arbor
Delta Upsilon
Class of 2010
As I panned the drunken mayhem of State Street with my freshman eyes during Welcome Week, a grin spread across my face. College, I said to myself. As beer streamed from kegs into Solo cups, a deafening chaos poured out onto the front lawns of fraternities. Frat brothers in popped-collar Polo shirts and flip flops were scoping out girls, approaching with offers of rum and vodka. The only supplement this stereotypical college party scene needed was a film crew - perhaps Old School 2?
My scrutiny was interrupted by a call and a wave from a house party nearby. "Come on, get in on this game, dude!" The excitement took hold immediately. Somebody actually knows me here. A group of my orientation buddies had begun a match of flip cup against a clan of inebriated sorority sisters. Their carefree smiles and laughter pulled me to the table. They all look so comfortable around each other - this is just what I need. The girls pointed me toward a pitcher and I aggressively weaved my way through the mob of other freshmen "lightweights" to the college student's conversational lubricant - alcohol.
Without hesitation, I filled a red Solo cup halfway with beer, returned to my group, and nodded to my giggly partner across the table. After both sides exchanged names and handshakes (and some phone numbers), the competition was underway. 1…2…3…Drink!!! I felt unprepared as I watched the veteran guzzlers down their portions and effortlessly flick their cups bottom-up. I can't let them down. When my turn came, the cheers turned to battle cries on my third and forth failed flip as Team Sorority sped by to clinch the victory. Though this was my first drinking game ever, my competitive drive clouded my inhibitions. "Let's go again." Why the hell not? I'm making new friends every minute and these girls are starting to look better and better.
I woke up (in my own room, at least) with a splitting headache and a stomach twisted in knots, a water-logged cell phone and my sweatshirt missing. Following four visits to the toilet (into which I'd apparently dropped my cell phone the night before), I learned from my roommate that I hadn't returned with a sweatshirt. How does this happen on my first night out? I guess the consequences of drinking were greater than I'd thought. I just drank because I was excited, because I found where I fit in. My naïveté was astounding.
Welcome Week 2006 saw the first and last of my heavy drinking exhibitions, and what more ironic saviors to have than my own fraternity brothers? While rushing my fraternity, I formed impenetrable bonds with future brothers through their guidance and support. On party nights, many brothers would decide as a group to "socially drink" - to have a beer, but to just sip from it and leave room for conversation. This way, one could party and "fit in," but maintain a level head. With the insanity of Welcome Week still freshly etched in my brain, I found it hard to believe that any fraternity would endorse such an atypical policy towards alcohol consumption.
With the encouragement of my brothers, I tried it. At our next open party, I stuck to one beer for the night. I opted out of the drinking contests and spent my time meeting girls on the dance floor. I even remembered their names. I got to know other brothers from my house too, ones that I wouldn't normally see during the week because of classes and schoolwork. The party flew by as I immersed myself in conversations not only with other "social drinkers," but with non-drinkers as well. Yes, even the non-drinkers knew how to party (energy drinks optional). At the end of the night, I walked proudly back to my dorm and spent the next day much more productively - without a hangover.
The idea of "social drinking," I learned later, was my fraternity's response to the discomforting facts presented on the AlcoholEdu website. As a fraternity, each brother is required to complete the AlcoholEdu course with a passing grade. I must admit (though I passed the exam) that a majority of the information breezed through my brain with little consideration, but certain alarming statistics still linger. I now look back at Welcome Week as a series of numbers. 41% of heavily-drinking students forgot where they were or what they did at a party as a result of alcohol. Guilty. AlcoholEdu calls it a "blackout" - when the impact of alcohol on one's memory becomes so severe that the drinker can't remember events that took place while he/she was drunk. 60% of light and non-drinkers had their studying or sleeping disrupted by a drunken student. I guess I owe an apology to my roommate. 20% of all alcohol is consumed by underage drinkers. That one night during Welcome Week, I contributed to the $22 billion spent per year on alcohol by students that aren't even of legal age.
With AlcoholEdu presenting the hard facts of alcohol in full, people (even Greek organizations such as my own) are able to make informed decisions that may alter previous drinking practices - witness the idea of "social drinking." The course takes a less aggressive approach to alcohol education, not bombarding the student with "right" and "wrong" guidelines for drinking, but allowing the student to mold the course with exercises like the "Personalized BAC Curve" and short-answer questions. Through this course, we students are given an opportunity to "lower the percentages" and promote a healthier environment not only for ourselves, but for those around us.
AlcoholEdu helped me realize that one night of drinking can result in much more than just a hangover. After reading this piece, I am hoping that you, too, already have in mind new alternatives to the excessive drinking that occurs on college campuses nationwide. With that, I have one question left. What are you doing next Welcome Week?
Return to the main AlcoholEdu Media Competition page.
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