When people think of the weed culture on campus, their first tendency is usually to compare it to the drinking culture. After all, alcohol and drugs are essentially the only forms of recreation at Dartmouth outside of three-month-old movies at the Hop and the thoroughly embarrassing Love March, though I've heard tell that some kind of alleged "sober socializing" might exist as well.
And who can forget all those tools during the first two weeks of freshman Fall who were so obnoxiously eager to advertise their expertise on the subject of all things COLLEGE by talking incessantly about their exploits with marijuana and drinking, as well as "totally having the hookup at that house down the street"?
I think we have it all wrong. Alcohol at Dartmouth definitely does not qualify as an equivalent comparison to marijuana, certainly not until the smoking culture becomes so dominant that we come up with a commonly used term for getting so high you can't talk and then having another bong hit after that (mute n' rally?).
Think about it: weed is much more like hooking up. Whatever "hooking up" means to you, be it sex (oral or otherwise), gentle lip-touching, or just some sexy, sexy toe-sucking (the TV show Cheaters has taught me that more people engage in this activity than I ever dared to dream) it is generally not something that is considered okay to engage in out in public. Similarly, PDB (public displays of blazing) at parties is almost entirely banished to the upstairs rooms, like all of those doomed-to-fail one-night stands that trickle out of the basement as the beer runs out.
The parallels don't stop there. Both weed and sex make you hungry, are great study breaks, put you in an instantly better mood, make you appreciate the musical stylings of K-Ci and JoJo, and according to Mormons, you will never become a God and make your own worlds if you engage in either.
If your parents went to college in the 70s, it probably makes them feel a little uncomfortable and hypocritical to approach you about those condoms they found or the bowl they found on top of them in the sock drawer. Both weed and sexuality scared old white people into thinking that all those innocent Beaver Cleavers out there were being corrupted by the dangerous black American musical genres of jazz and rock n roll (sources cited: the movie Hairspray and something my Dad told me once). And if you're doing it right, the room might have a sweetly pungent smell afterwards.
Though weed and sex are inarguably the most delicious forbidden fruits in the whole garden, there is a catch. You unfortunately cannot always have your cake and hump it too. At Dartmouth, because of said drinking culture, weed is the ultimate self-cockblock. There is a universal truth that ensures that exactly 20 minutes before that golden last-call basement moment when those who choose the road more trampy are pairing off with their equally drunk slampieces (hardguy slang alert), anyone with a stash in their room will instead go home, smoke a joint and order EBA's.
But if you take anything from this article, let it be this: please, for the love of God, no one teach my grandparents how to use Google.
