To those who report parties, I have a few choice words for you.
I went to a party in the Village the other night. It was busted. Which isn’t that big of a deal, since most parties are called quits early due to a GRM or the police.
Except this party, more like a get together of 20 friends, was busted at 11 p.m., on a Saturday night. Really, only 11 p.m. The GRM asked everyone to leave, checked ID’s and made sure all vessels were empty. The party was over, caput. Friends parted and paths split, searching for an enjoyable means to continue the young night.
I was crushed, devastated. The past hour had been all smiles: impersonating Drake’s swaggy dancing in “Hotline Bling,” building new friendships, catching up with old friends, laughing at inside jokes, celebrating each other’s achievements and most importantly, forgetting about our responsibilities and letting loose. This get together wasn’t about getting blackout drunk, it was about setting aside the daily “sCWRUed” grind in favor of friends and fun. My smile waned as one by one we left and our glorious gathering separated into confused clusters.
After speaking with the GRM and compiling various accounts of the events preceding the shutdown, evidence strongly suggests that you called the GRM. Your neighboring suite reported the noise/alcohol/sounds of happiness to the GRM who, following protocol, intercepted the gathering. Herein lies my frustration; reporting someone’s party isn’t cool. It’s rude.
For starters, watch “Neighbors” and heed the advice of Zac Efron: Don’t call the police/GRM/RA, take your complaint straight to the supposed perpetrator. If a neighboring apartment is too loud, get off your couch and knock on their door. Give a warning, be nice, ask them politely to turn down the music and don’t jump the gun. No need to destroy a party when dialing back the volume will do.
Second of all, what are you possibly doing at 11 p.m. on a Saturday night that vibrations from the adjacent apartment or the possibility of binge drinking upset you? Friday and Saturday nights are reserved for anything except studying. These are sacred times set aside for movies, late night chats, parties, board games, discovering new music, moonlit strolls, coloring books, star gazing, rereading “Harry Potter” for the 10th time – literally anything except hitting the books and crunching the calculus. We all need this time to decompress, and you are no exception.
Other peoples’ residual noise or actions shouldn’t affect you. Weekend nights are about you doing you, don’t let anybody kill your vibe. It is college after all, did you expect it to be quiet? If you want silence, invest in some earplugs. If illicit activity rubs you the wrong way, hold up. Respect other people’s choices and save the self-righteousness for another time.
Finally, reporting a party is selfish, bordering on sadistic. Maybe sadistic is a strong term, but when you give the GRM/RA/police a ring (before knocking yourself and before the night has reached late adolescence aka 1 a.m.), you are effectively terminating someone else’s recreational fun. Is your desire for silence, legality or whatever motivated you to report a festivity, more important than the collective jubilance of dozens of people? I didn’t think so.
Halloweekend is upon us, one of the most rejoiced weekends in a collegian’s life. There will be loud music, ridiculous costumes, binge drinking and underage drinking. It will be rowdy and it should be.
If partying isn’t your thing, then read “Goosebumps” or catch a screening of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Do something fun, crazy, spontaneous, anything that brings a smile to your face and lets you forget about school.
Do overwhelm yourself in happiness and don’t impede upon someone else’s happiness by reporting a party. In fact when the bass starts bumping upstairs, knock on the door and join the merrymaking.
Heather O’Keeffe is a fourth-year student studying biomedical engineering and minoring in sports medicine. She will go as Velvet Dog, Donald Trump and the Pink Power Ranger this year for Halloween.