May I suggest a toast?

A toast to those who, on a daily basis, deal with us, the alcoholics of Northwestern. I’m talking the employees of White Hen, the patrons of Burger King, and the paid-a-lot-but-clearly-not-paid-enough students who drive SafeRide.

There are not enough drinks in the world for me to drink in your honor.

As previously mentioned, I do know what it is like to be the only sober person in a ten mile radius. In a nutshell, it sucks. Drunk people are emotional, loud, and unable to control most of their bodily functions. Though I’ve only taken SafeRide maybe twice in my career (a drunk person knows no fear) I have frequented White Hen almost daily, and BK perhaps two to three times a month. The only thing worse than acting a fool at one of these locales when you’re drunk is going in the next day and knowing that they’re judging you.

Let’s start with White Hen. The employees of White Hen are not only understanding to your plight for the perfect drunk snack or the perfect box of cigarettes, they are only too willing to help you out. Something gives me the feeling that they’ve been there before. Or that they are there right now and are just trying to help a fellow inebriated person out. Mohawk Guy (who is leaving next week for Colorado! What will we do!?) will give you a good sandwich recommendation and tell you about whatever show he has coming up with his band. Beard Guy will listen to you drone on and on about whatever happened to you at the party while silently laughing at you. Dreadlocks Guy will terrify you with stories about how the world is going to end, which is actually not very helpful when you’re drunk.

The best part about going to White Hen drunk? All of the cops. It gives you a sense of danger and urgency, making sure you get home quickly, lest you get arrested while they help themselves to some White Hen coffee. In reality, these cops are also just laughing at you, chuckling to themselves as you buy three sandwiches “for your roommates,” even though you’re going to eat them by yourself. My absolute favorite part of White Hen is trying to pretend I’m sober, even though no one (except for the employees and the cops) goes to White Hen between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. if they’re sober. I go to White Hen because for twenty minutes, I can feel like I am laughing with the employees and cops, even though I wake up in the afternoon and know they were laughing at me.

Here’s to you, White Hen. Thank you for your delicious sandwiches and overpriced food items. Even though you may soon be a 7-Eleven, I’ll never forget you.

Next, of course, is Burger King. They put in a lounge and TVs, which was probably the nicest thing they could do for those of us who don’t count calories because we can’t remember eating. The employees of BK should really be used to the drunken hoards that invade every night after about 1 a.m. and yet they always seem surprised to see us. Not only surprised, but annoyed. They don’t have the twinkle in their eyes that the White Hen guys have. No, the BK guys have disdain for the drunkies. Even though I’m sure half of their income is made from drunk kids who order two separate meals because they want to taste the difference between a Whopper and a Stacker, they do not appreciate the drunk kids. The security guard on the other hand, has a field day. He’s not like a regular mom, he’s a cool mom that lets you drink in his house and doesn’t give you a hard time about it. He’ll talk to you about your major and your life plans and even about the skank who stole your man. Yes, the security guard outshines the BK employees by a long shot.

After parties get broken up, BK becomes the social event of the evening — a veritable “who’s who” of campus celebrities. Slurred words don’t matter because you can order food based on numbers alone. People hook up in the bathroom. People hook up in the lounge. Hell, I’ve seen people hook up in line before their mouths taste like burgers and grease.

So thank you, BK. For giving us a cheap and easy afterparty. Even though I still contend that there should be more people working at night so we don’t have to wait as long, I understand that it’s a lot to ask. Maybe next year.

And finally, SafeRide. Though I’m not really a patron of SafeRide, I salute them for doing what no one else wants to do: DD. According to the school, SafeRide is not actually a designated driver service, but they might as well be. With new regulations and rules, it’s less possible to jam a ton of your friends into a car to get a ride somewhere before you all throw up on each other. Still, the chance that these drivers will have to clean up vomit is a risk they take on a daily basis. One time I saw a SafeRide driver at Jewel Osco picking up a case of beer. I doubt that the driver drank during his/her shift, but the idea really keeps me grounded. These kids also want to be out drinking, but they’re sacrificing their nights so that we can engage in our own buffoonery.

It should probably be named “Moderately-SafeRide” based on the number of near-collisions that I’ve witnessed in my day, but at least they’re trying. I’ll always think that they should up the number of SafeRide cars and drivers, and that people should be allowed to flag down a SafeRide, much like a taxi. I just spent all of my money buying shots, so I don’t have enough money for a taxi. Why not let a fellow student help me out? They should also have a tip jar, because drunk kids love parting with their money in out-of-control ways. But what do I know? I’m just a drunk kid.