A couple weeks ago I found myself in Chi Gam basement for a registered party with a DJ and kegs. The scene was pretty normal, and as usual drunk brothers were hitting on the freshmen slooters. However, I noticed a lot of guys crowding around the bar, more than usual. Struck by curiosity, I nudged my way through the line to find a stack of some 20 plus EBAs pies. I asked Michael Murov ‘07, a friend of mine and a brother at Chi Gam, as to whether I could eat the pizza or not, and he excitedly told me that the fraternity had ordered the food for everyone. Stunned by this act of charity, I resolved to quit my own fraternity and join a house more suitable to my gastric interests.

The next morning, of course, I woke up with both a painful stomachache (my first clue that this program was ill-advised—EBAs is wildly unhealthy) , the kind one gets when one eats too much raw cake batter, and a decidedly curious mind. After minimal investigating, I soon found out that Chi Gam had not purchased the pizza from the night before; Dartmouth College was my true benefactor. Apparently, the administration had decided to dispense “Party Packs,” consisting of sodas and EBAs pizzas, to houses that registered their events in order to provide alternatives to alcohol in Greek life.
Free pizza? But… why? The program is apparently supposed to help fraternities and sororities satisfy the SEMP requirements that there be food and non-alcoholic beverages available at registered parties, which the College noticed few houses were doing on their own. These requirements were to serve to water down the prominence of alcohol at parties. The premise is that having food available attracts non-drinkers or dissuades would-be drinkers and helps keep drinkers from getting sick. Sure, there are some benefits to the Party Packs, but, to paraphrase John McCain, they involve the College spending tuition money like a drunken sailor. This new attempt at alcohol regulation is desperate and has obvious flaws.

Party Packs do not make parties more accessible. The students who go to Collis Late Night, for their nocturnal munchies are people who wouldn’t ordinarily be out at fraternities, and still do not go out to them on weekend nights just to get free EBAs. The crowds of people at Chi Gam waiting for pizza were the normal crowds who hang out there for registered parties, and probably a substantial number of people from the surrounding fraternities. Heidi Immesberger ’06, in reference to the Party Packs, said “I had no idea the college did that for registered parties, but…it probably wouldn't affect my decision to go to whatever house.” The pizza does indeed get consumed, but not by the targeted audience, or even, usually, by people who might have come to drink, but were magically dissuaded by the more exciting prospect of pizza rage. Party Packs unfairly cost the sober non-partygoers, the group the SLI is trying to help in the first place. Their tuition money pays for pizza that gets served in places they don’t go.

The argument that the pizza keeps drinkers from getting really sick is a better perspective, but still generally untrue. People need to eat before they go out, not after they’re already inebriated; even Dartmouth social norms advertising talks about the importance of food before, not during, drinking. Plus, most of the people who get very sick at fraternities on the nights of registered parties are those who “pre-game” by drinking copious amounts of hard liquor; food can little alter their predestined path to a bed in Dick’s House besides giving them a better awareness of their limits.
There are several positives to this program, of course. The first one is that I get free EBAs when I party. Another is the availability of non-alcoholic drinks like water, especially at dance parties where tired dancers end up rehydrating themselves with PBR from kegs. The availability of water at these parties is key to the general health of the students.

Nevertheless, the program still reminds me of a beached whale: if only it could coordinate its desperate flailing, it would be able to move itself back into the water. Bad analogies aside, the college drops way too money on such cheery, “student-friendly” alcohol programs. Despite having proven ineffective, social norms advertising is still in full force on campus. The college continues posting flyers in hallways and giving away Nalgenes to students, many who obviously have just lied in their screening about their drinking habits (“I’m serious, I only go out one night a week and I usually only have one or two beers”) to avoid unpleasant and accusatory counseling sessions when they totally have next on a table.

When I had some EBAs from Sigma Delta last week, the pizza tasted really different. The crust was slightly doughy as usual; the cheese and sauce were both in their right places. But the pizza tasted like guilt. The delicious sauce was blended with the sad, hungry plight of all the East Wheelock kids who weren’t getting to enjoy the zest of a classic EBAs pie, but paying for it nonetheless.

The next morning, six slices later, I realized that though the water and sodas are great, the fact that the administration is paying for drunk kids to get fat with the college budget is a supreme achievement in idiocy.