Man About Town

We had it right sophomore year.

After turning 21, many people leave the “dirty 30” behind and opt for classier venues to get their more sophisticated drink on.

But, recently, with the help of my friend Jenny, we’ve rediscovered the magic of a 30 pack of Busch Light. Instead of going to the bar and dropping $40 or more, a $20 investment can get the job done and provide us with a night of fun.

Beer pong, flip cup or random raging all can come from this heavenly pack.

What we once shunned because we were “too old to tote the 30” is now a throwback to the days of shotgunning beers in the dorms.

Last spring, it was second nature to go to the bar five or so days a week after work. Having only gotten a few months to hit the East Lansing bar scene after turning 21, I left for an internship in the fall. When I got back, I knew I had to make up for lost time.

As with all things, the bar scene got old, not to mention expensive.

This fall, I decided to switch up my routine. Instead of heading out to a crowded, smoke-filled place, I wanted to try drinking at home with my friends. I never have to wait for a drink, there’s never a line for the bathroom and I can actually hear the people I’m talking with. The house I’m living in also has a killer side lot, which is perfect for beer pong. Needless to say, I found an old, but good, recipe for fun.

The bars can be a blast, but sometimes all you need to do when looking for a good time is turn to your past.

It started with sex.

We met for the sole purpose of having a night of unadulterated fun. I’d known this person for a short while, and after a night of drinking, both of us happened to be on AIM at the same time. With a few nimble key strokes, this person arrived at my home.

After chilling and consuming a few more unnecessary beers, we headed to my bedroom, were we proceeded to achieve what so many Spartans seek on a lonely, drunken Thursday night. The sex was good, so, in a rare move, I let this person stay over.

A few days passed, and we met up again. Yes, the purpose was the same, but this time, we agreed we liked each other. In fact, I was even asked out by this person, much to my chagrin.

Pumped about having an actual date, versus a typical “schedule and screw,” I was overjoyed when an AIM window popped up at work, asking me out Tuesday night. So, putting off studying for midterms, I went out, had a few beers and stood amid a cloud of smelly, fake smoke, attempting to keep up a conversation over pulsating music.

As I walked back from the bathroom, I couldn’t happen but notice this person talking to someone else. I considered it fair game, since we weren’t in a relationship and no “I love you” had been exchanged (People, at least in my book, are free agents until an “I love you” is uttered). Then, as I ordered another draft beer at the bar, I couldn’t help but notice my sort-of-date’s lips locked with someone else.

Tilting my head with a perplexed look on my face, this person noticed me watching. A good friend was in the crowd and came to my aid, letting me know my new friend had been ridden more than a vintage bike owned by an East Lansing hippie.

Filled with a silent rage, my sort of date disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear later, asking me if I’d be angry. Never saying angry about what, this person just kept asking, “Would you be angry?”

I’m 22. I’ve had my share of trysts. But this blew my mind, when, in fact, I was hoping to get something else blown.

If you can’t even say, “Hey, I want to go screw someone else. I’m not going home with you. Sorry about that,” then you shouldn’t be hooking up with someone else. At least admit when you’re being a slut.

Hooking up with someone else in front of your date, or sort of date, is tacky. And, if you do, at least have the gumption to admit to it.

It turns out, my need to get screwed ended up screwing me over.

I’ve never been ashamed to call myself a Spartan until this week.

Cedar Fest, a revival of a semiannual party that occurred in the ’70s and ’80s, was an embarrassment to our campus and the East Lansing community.

As I stood watching bottles and cans being thrown through the air late Saturday and early Sunday, I hung my head in shame. This wasn’t a party – this was a call for mass chaos.

Being a senior and longtime member of The State News, I had the “privilege” to witness and report on the April 2-3, 2005 disturbances. The mood among the 2005 crowd was celebratory. Things only turned sour after police began teargassing people who were in the streets.

The crowd I saw this weekend didn’t resemble that. These people wanted to riot and be teargassed.

After the 2005 disturbances, there was a divide in the community, one that took a long time to heal. I’m still not sure that wound has completely healed.

A committee of university, city and other officials, along with a few students, an ACLU member and residents spent about eight months analyzing what went wrong in 2005 and how they could prevent it from happening again. East Lansing police Chief Tom Wibert took the recommendations of that committee to heart and implemented them throughout the police department.

This weekend devalued that work and the efforts of many people in the community to heal the wound created by the 2005 disturbances.

When the MSU men’s basketball team moved into the Sweet 16, I went down to City Hall and spoke with Wibert about what was planned for post-basketball celebrations and Cedar Fest. He said the department would be focused on an individual approach to any mass gathering, instead of dealing with the crowd as a whole, and the department also would only use chemical munitions as a last resort.

Wibert was true to his word. Police were pelted with bottles, cans and other objects and remained calm until the crowd was a more serious threat to police and itself. People should have done as they were told and left Cedar Village. They shouldn’t have come back after flash-bang grenades were used to drive people out. But for some unknown reason, people wanted to be teargassed, and that’s what happened.

I know that the crowd that night wasn’t all MSU students. But to those of you who were there and participated in the madness, shame on you. You’re a disappointment to the university and this community. You’ve tarnished our reputation and devalued the degrees we
aspire to receive from MSU.

Cedar Fest was unsettling. It shouldn’t have happened and shouldn’t happen again. There is a big difference between a block party (which you need a permit for) and a riot.

For everyone who participated in the riot, I leave you with this: Are you proud of what you’ve done?

If you are, then something is seriously wrong with you.

Don’t hit on my girlfriends.

And please, don’t use a cheesy pickup line like, “I’m doing a survey and wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Desperate men are a problem in East Lansing. They stand brooding in bars, waiting for some poor woman to accidentally make eye contact with them. That’s when they strike, leaving a trail of bad cologne in their wake.

I’ve seen this happen to my friends and other people in almost every bar I frequent. It’s awkward when someone – who is either past their prime or lacks any social skill – comes over to a table, sets down a drink and thinks it’s OK to begin going from girl to girl, seeing if anyone will take their bait.

Guess what? It’s rude to burst into a conversation of strangers, especially when they are clearly not looking to hook up. No one wants to hear your story and no one wants to deal with you. Unless invited or engaged in some other fashion, stick to your dark corner.

Much like the stray cats East Lansing tried to regulate a while back, desperate men need to be handled in some manner. Perhaps the East Lansing City Council can pass an ordinance that allows these men to be captured and released back into wherever place it is they came from.

Until there’s a day when my girlfriends and I can have a few cocktails in peace, we will continue to shoot disapproving looks to hopeful desperate men everywhere. And beware, if you do happen to sit at our table, it’s not going to end well for you. We won’t take your drinks or shots – we’ll simply return the favor that you’ve bestowed on so many bar patrons throughout the years making sure your night is awkward and very uncomfortable.

Beware. There are predators lurking throughout East Lansing.

They appear when you least expect it, in bold animal prints or fur, waving their sharpened claws in the air, hoping to score a fresh piece of meat for the night.

Their choice of hunting grounds: The East Lansing bar scene.

It’s startling to see these “cougars” in action. They stroll about, making eyes at their prey, licking their bloodred lips.

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I’m not talking about wild animals – I’m describing wild older women who think it’s cool to act like they are 21.

When home for spring break, I told my mom – who is in her late 40s – about these “cougars.” She couldn’t help but laugh. My mom said it’s important to have fun, but there comes a time when it’s not appropriate to do the things you did in your 20s.

With age should come the wisdom and desire to be around people who have similar life experiences, she said. Running around a college town is something that didn’t appeal to her.

And frankly, it’s a little disturbing to see someone who is approaching middle age try and fraternize with the men at MSU. I couldn’t picture my mom trying to pick up a guy my age, so what makes these women feel it’s OK?

Ladies, there is a time to cover it up and get with people your own age. And if you answer to “Mommy,” or, God forbid, “Grandma,” that time is now.

Five years.

To most people, it’s half a decade.

To me, it’s a “Victory Lap.” That’s what I’m calling my next, fifth year in college.
At first, it was scary to see some of my oldest friends stepping out into the “real world.” But I now realize that this coming year shouldn’t be looked upon as a burden, it should be a celebration. I should take the time to enjoy my life, aside from work and classes.

I will participate in everything it means to be a Spartan – the tailgates, football games and house parties – one last time. College should be savored and I intend to indulge my appetite for fun. This is the last time in our lives that we can ditch class to head to the mall or spend an afternoon lying in the sun.

The “real world” can wait, at least for another year. When at the bar last Wednesday, a friend who is graduating after four years said she wishes she had one more year to be a student. She said graduating in four years is like leaving a party at midnight, which every Spartan knows is a complete faux pas. The second keg wouldn’t have even been tapped.

College isn’t about books – it’s about the people you meet and the relationships you build. A fifth year is another chance to do just that. And to anyone who says college should be completed in four years, lighten up. You clearly didn’t ever take a semester off or reduce your class load to have a little fun.

To all my other fifth year seniors: Let’s keep on running, because a “Victory Lap” is that good. Just remember to stay focused so you don’t drop out of the race.

I’ve been around the block more than once.

I’m in my fourth year at MSU and staring down the barrel of a fifth. A better part of my career at The State News was spent reporting on the community. Now I’m taking a step back to write about it in the blog, “Man About Town.”

The last four years have taught me there is more to learn in this city than what’s taught in classrooms and lecture halls — it’s the interaction with people that teaches us about life. During the semester, I’ll be writing about things I see that make life here unique.

The fabric of this community is created by the different types of people who live here, who make MSU and East Lansing their home for four or five years. Endless parties, nights on the town and days spent hanging out with friends are a crucial part of our development as people and students. This city is constantly changing, as are the people in it. It’s this flux that keeps life in “E.L.” interesting.

I hope to write about things you might or might not have noticed and to share a few of your stories along the way. From bar nights to sitting on the front porch during a sunny afternoon with your roommates, the city offers something new and fun each day.

Whoever said high school is the best time of your life must have not gone to college because these last four years have been the best of my life. I hope they bring the same happiness for you.