Standing at the back door of a Eugene nightclub with a large, damp speaker in my hands, I nervously waited for a friend to walk through the front door and smuggle me through the back. I was scared, but something kept me from wimping out.
As five very long minutes passed, my friend opened the back door and three savage-looking club bouncers hovered over to see what was going on. The speaker in my hands served as a disguise and made them believe that I was coming to drop it off for the owner.
But really, I was just another 20-year-old little punk who wanted to see what all this 21-and-over hype was all about.
And what I found out challenged my initial perceptions of the drinking age.
Earlier that night, I was at a Halloween house party. A slightly comforting-yet-sketchy basement covered with forest wallpaper housed a herd of hormone-thirsty Super Marios, Lady GaGas, banana suits and half-naked nurses.
The DJ spun a mix of up-tempo party music down below, and in the kitchen, the pre-funk ceremonies took place. Almost like a factory line, the partygoers got their drink on upstairs, funneled downstairs to party, then returned to the kitchen for fresh air and more drinks. But every time the police rolled by, the entire atmosphere changed and everyone grew quiet and killed the music.
Minors at house parties are as skittish as zebras in the open Sahara.
The party was eventually forced to shut down, and this is where the insanity took place. Several guys grew agitated with the pushing and shoving of the scrambling partygoers and a fight broke out.
A man ended up being stomped to a pulp and drug across the cement like a rag doll, and another guy kept coming into the group and punching random people. The police were right across the street, but they were not aware enough to break it up. They were too busy cooking up MIPs to see that a man was out of control and assaulting everyone in sight.
This was directly in contrast to the scene of the nightclub I 007’ed my way into.
After my brief run-in with the bouncers, I walked though a hallway and was greeted by a large, festive dance room with people squeezing in rhythmic arm motions amongst an overbearing crowd. Navigating to a comfortable place took ages, but I eventually set up camp where I could actually breathe.
The scene was pretty much everything that happened at the house party, but there were key differences.
The people at the club were part of an environment that looked down upon people who were too drunk, whereas the house partiers were already deemed irresponsible for drinking, so they didn’t really care how trashed people were.
The people at the club were able to party knowing that if something happened, they would be aided by a security force who wouldn’t attack them for drinking, but defend their safety.
The people at the club weren’t forced to squeal at the sight of flashing lights; instead they could focus on how to handle their alcohol intake and how to stay functional.
The people at the club were put in a position where they could be monitored and challenged to be responsible for what they do.
In short, when you’re 21, society gives you a lot more tools to drink responsibly. By telling 18-year-olds they are already irresponsible just for drinking, we put pressure on the wrong aspect of alcohol.
Understandably, there is evidence that the mind develops fully at 21, and understandably, Mothers Against Drunk Driving often showcases that raising the drinking age has saved many lives from drunk driving accidents.
But think of all the lives put at risk when police focus on distributing MIPs to drinking students and not their safety. Think of how many other rights we are granted before our brains are fully developed: owning a house, a car, entering marriage, buying cigarettes, choosing where to go to school — all seem like much bigger rights and responsibilities for an undeveloped mind to take on.
We hold skits during IntroDUCKtion to teach incoming students how to handle the responsibilities of drinking, and then society turns around and fines them $150 for practicing the things they were taught. Every person with a brain knows that drinking is an inevitable aspect of the college culture, and yet, instead of figuring out how to make it as safe as possible, the city focuses on making a few bucks off of us as we are trapped within a perpetual paradox.
The city of Eugene needs to channel energy into making drinking more safe and monitored, as opposed to fining minors as means of income through MIPs.
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