One week away from graduation, this fifth-year senior has found himself looking back at a Dartmouth life that was. I cannot say that my time here has always been easy or pleasant; I am, after all, a fifth-year senior for a reason. These are the memoirs of a basement dweller.
In high school, my friends and I had developed a strong affinity for Carlsberg beer and Old Granddad's whiskey. When our parents would leave for the weekend, we would raid a liquor cabinet or two, have a drink or ten, have a grand old time and pass out somewhere in the yard. These are some of my fondest memories of high school, not because we were getting tanked, but because we were strengthening our friendships.
It is within this context that I fully expected to join a fraternity. I figured that fraternity life would be just like a party at someone's house except that there would be more girls, unlimited alcohol and a free license to smash things. It would be a high schooler's utopia.
I joined Phi Delta Alpha in the spring of 2004 and immediately became enamored with its rich history, traditions and the general "F"-it attitude. The initiation process was strenuous and difficult, but rewarding at the end for those very reasons. Out of this, I developed some of my strongest friendships both at Dartmouth and in my life.
There is no doubt that some of the best individuals on campus are in the fraternity system. There were good conversations against the backdrop of good music, with topics touching on life, the future and pretty girls. There was also a lot of dumb stuff that I'll remember fondly: the antiquings, wrestling matches and the occasional dome.
Dartmouth, however, has a funny way of twisting a good thing into something that is only a foggy outline of its potentiality. Despite the positive aspects of fraternity life, my habit of basement dwelling became a negative factor in my life far beyond rapid weight gain and massive hangovers.
Living life in the constant cycle of hangover causation/hangover recovery took a toll on my academics and my social life. I began to descend into a life that revolved around the basement.
There is a large gap between hanging out and basement dwelling. It is a gradual, slippery slope down. Some are able to handle it; I was not.
It wasn't just me. Around me and throughout the fraternity system, people began to comment on those who had the look of someone who was thoroughly depressed and broken, but who carried on drinking and acting as if nothing was wrong. Comments were made about the "vacant look" in their eyes. The culture of living in the basement was destroying previously strong individuals, hollowing them out and leaving a shuck, without their knowledge.
There is a pressure at Dartmouth to remain consistent in one's attitude and demeanor. Heavy drinking and the stereotypical frat-dude attitude that emanates from it is like a mark that you have been through some sort of Dartmouth right of passage. Destructive behaviors are encouraged. The path of heavy drinking and basement dwelling seems normal when external stimuli tell you to continue on.
The fact everyone knows, and many are proud of, is that Dartmouth is not normal in its drinking behavior compared to other universities. Dartmouth students boast about their excessive drinking and crazy behavior as if it is an honorable thing. Dartmouth students take pleasure when our friends from home express their shock, even disgust. It should be a source of shame.
I occasionally go into the basement these days, but it is with a great level of self control. I am proud to be an ex-basement dweller.
I know that I have written this article for cathartic reasons, that I can somehow make amends for my past misgivings by influencing others. I also know that some will think of me as weak for going public with such a taboo subject. In the words of Kanye West, we're all self-conscious; I'm just the first to admit it.
I'd like to ask all the basement dwellers on campus: Why did you come here?
