Greeks invade the bar scene

I have a problem. Actually, I have many problems, but since I don't have the time or patience to discuss all of them in this forum, I'll limit myself to one. My problem is with the migration of the party scene from the fraternity houses to the bars.\nFrat parties, in the classical sense of the term, have gone the way of the dinosaur. In fact, they have gone the way of the dinosaur that was arrested, beaten, put on probation and still wearing an ankle monitor. Frat members have been forced to take their drinking elsewhere, so to speak. And where, you might ask, could elsewhere be? Simple -- elsewhere is every bar in Bloomington.\nIf this town had 75 more bars, maybe everyone could fit. But it doesn't, so I pose the question to the administration, the faculty and the students: Could we please let the frats party like rock stars? Because I, like, need my space.\nThe statistics are shocking. Bathroom line waiting times are up a stunning 76 percent. The other night, I thought about actually bringing a bedpan with me and sticking it in my roommate's purse. Also up are puking line times. With everyone waiting so long to use the bathrooms for ordinary purposes, the pukers have been forced to vomit anywhere they can find a square foot of visible floor. I've been puked on three times already, and we're only a few weeks into the fall semester. \nOn the upside, groping is now at an all-time high. It's pretty hard to track down a groper when you're intoxicated and surrounded by 10 shady-looking guys. But hey, it wasn't me. That's all I know!\nIt used to be I could go to the Bluebird and hang out with the hippies, go to Nick's and hang out with the grad students or go to Mars and hang out with members of our athletic teams. Now, greeks surround me no matter where I go. They have descended on the bars like flies descend on poo.\nIn the old days, I could always count on hearing, "What's your sign?" or "Please sleep with me now because you are the hottest man alive!" Now all I hear is, "What house are you in?" When I tell the girls that I live in the house with the clogged-up gutter and rusted-out '74 Chevy Malibu on the front lawn, they don't talk to me anymore. Oh well.\nBut seriously, it seems to me the greek system should be allowed to take care of itself. Whether they do take care of themselves is another matter. All college students are young adults capable of making their own stupid decisions.\nThe University has a complex relationship with the greek houses. They need to simplify this relationship by making greeks accountable for their own not-so-sober actions. If greek houses are truly accountable, shouldn't that mean they are liable, too? And if they are liable, should they not be allowed to hoist a bottle of malt liquor in the air when they see fit? I can get hammered at home if I want to, so why can't they?\nPlus, they do a lot more work for charity. If I spent all day at a nursing home feeding granny tapioca pudding, you're damn right I'd be getting liquored up later that night. The University seems to hold greeks to a different standard than the rest of us. If I tried to live by the same set of rules, my apartment would have lost its charter the day we moved in.\nI don't claim to know all the answers … although I do know most of them. I know this issue is far more complicated than I've made it out to be. But it is clear something must be done when the bars are tighter than a pair of leather pants on … well, most of the girls I see at the bars.\nMaybe we should build more bars. Maybe I should invest in fake ID firms rather than mutual funds. Maybe the University should realize the desire to drink is as old as dirt, and by outlawing drinking in frats, the University will only add to its glamour. It will work about as well as prohibition worked in the 1920s. \nBut whatever ... I need a drink. And if you get in my way at the bars, I'm not above dumping that bedpan all over your brand new snakeskin boots.