“Why don’t you drink?” The question itself is innocuous enough. In a sea of college students who couldn’t imagine St. Patrick’s Day without jugs of green alcohol from Thursday night through the duration of the weekend, it can seem off-putting when someone chooses not to indulge. To me, the real question is, “Why do you?”
Truthfully, the whole concept of drinking has always been a little bit odd to me. I’m not talking about the occasional beer or glass of wine, but rather the ritual of dedicating every weekend to trying to set a new personal record of alcohol consumed. The idea that you have to reduce your inhibitions or change who you are in order to have fun or feel comfortable socializing is something I’ve never resonated with. I like myself and my friends. I don’t need to change my personality to have fun with them or to feel confident in who I am.
Dented cans, plastic cups and empty bottles litter Collegetown lawns and streets each weekend, yet many of these remnants disappear before Monday classes resume. But the aftermath of Cornell’s late-night parties does not magically vanish. Beyond regularly scheduled trash collection, a number of students and campus service groups have taken up the quiet task of removing the debris scattered around Collegetown. Jacob Llodra ’21 began collecting recyclables with one of his housemates during this year’s Orientation Week. He removes bottles and cans from streets and sidewalks each week and redeems them, earning five cents for each one he processes at Wegmans.
“The amount of grain that you use and the amount of water that you use to cook the grain, has an impact on how much sugar you get in the solution before it’s fermented into alcohol; that is directly related to the alcohol content of the final beer,” Bershaw said.
The specially prepared brew, named When There Are Nine, honors Ginsburg’s famed declaration from an event at Georgetown Law School that there will be enough women on the Supreme Court “when there are nine.”
I was standing somewhere on a Friday night during my freshman year when a stranger asked if I wanted to hear the secret of beer pong. I don’t remember what he looked like, just that his face held an expression of profound serenity and compassion. “The secret of beer pong,” he said, “is to throw the ball into the cup.” I asked him what the hell he meant by that. “Beer pong is a metaphor for life,” he said. “What is it to exist but to throw a ball into a cup?
This story was conceptualized by Chris Bentley, Emily Cohn, Ben Eisen and Sarah Singer.
The scene was one of hazy euphoria. Tipsy townies swayed to the music of live performers alongside debauched fratstars, all under a bright blue Ithaca sky beside the waters of Cayuga Lake.
For a brief moment, it seemed, god was smiling down on our little hippy college town.
Guys have it easy. Shelves around this time are overflowing with pink frilly cards, over sized heart-shaped boxes of Russell Stover’s chocolates, and cheesy displays of flowers padded with so much baby’s breath that you can barely see the single wilting rose tucked away in the center. All you men have to do is hand over something pink and pretty and the girl swoons, or so says every stereotypical advertisement for Valentine’s Day. So with America’s media catering all Valentine’s Day gifts towards women, what on earth is the other side of the relationship supposed to do? To find the solution, I set out on a mission to make the manliest of all Valentine’s Day meals.
The 2nd annual Ithaca Brew Fest dawned dark, wet and nasty on a September day, a day that students and adults alike would usually spend indoors watching Project Runway reruns or getting their study on. But a select group of troopers — those tough-skinned Cornellians, Ithaca Collegians, townies and out-of-towners who possessed a legitimate (hopefully) driver’s license claiming they were 21 years of age or older, made their way to Stewart Park on Saturday afternoon to dance, taste and get their drink on.