Every Thursday, Fairfield Cab makes a circuit race between our beloved university and one of the worst neighborhoods in Bridgeport. The hoards of students are clamoring towards one the weakest entries in the student body’s calendar: Clubhouse.
The Azul, formerly Clubhouse Café, is a bar in Bridgeport rented out by a former Fairfield student each week who then transform it into a “Thirsty Thursday” party that everyone refers to as Clubhouse. I hate all this stands for and the horrible damage it has done to our great university.
I first heard of Clubhouse when the glossy, scantily-clad woman from Clubhouse slid fliers under my door freshman year. They announced pitcher nights and wet T-shirt contests, and claimed that only one form of ID was needed for admittance. I have been to the underage bars in Bridgeport, and I will tell you that we will be far better off without them.
Freshmen and sophomores travel to these bars because their friends are going, they want to drink, or they feel like nothing else is going on. I am not going to tell fellow students not to drink, but I do believe the main goal of a fun evening should be to spend time with your friends.
Between taxi fares, cover charges and the exorbitant bar charges, it is hardly a cheap night out. Join a few organizations and get to know upperclassmen. Go to their houses if you want to get involved in the social scene. It will be far more rewarding in the long-run.
This is college: a place for us to branch out. Going to the same decrepit bar each week does not make anyone a better person. The blaring music can be fun to dance to, but even if you met someone new and interesting, the chances are that you would not want to get to know them by taking a long stroll along the streets of Bridgeport.
When I mentioned that I had some friends visiting this weekend that would be taking a bus into Bridgeport, some of my classmates shuddered at the thought. I find it ironic that these same classmates pay Fairfield Cab to drive them weekly to the same bar where a drive-by shooting occurred not even a year ago.
Although, I do not like the herds of freshmen that show up outside my townhouse each Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, I feel that they are a part of the culture here at Fairfield. And I do, in a way, embrace it. I want every upperclassman to think about when they were a freshman and invite a few more underclassmen into their homes this weekend and in the upcoming months. Maybe you will be able to help them the way that some upperclassmen once helped you: help could be academic, social or just showing them a good time at Fairfield.
We do not have a football team. Our basketball team is certainly not the same caliber as Duke, UConn or even BC. In the past Fairfield students bonded with each other through social events such as Clam Jam, Luau, Forgotten Path and a myriad of other events. Now, with the administration’s cancellation of many of these student traditions, underclassmen travel to Clubhouse. This is not a legacy we will look upon with rosy glasses. It is time we come together and build something we can be proud of.
The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms makes a bust or two a year, but in the end the bar stays open because it is run as a private party. The students involved plead guilty to misdemeanor trespassing, and life goes on. Neither the laws of Connecticut nor the student code of conduct will rectify this problem. We must take it upon ourselves to show underclassmen that this is not the Fairfield way.
I have not been to Clubhouse this year, and I will not go. I encourage you to do the same. Pledge with me that you will find better things to do than line the pockets of a greedy alumnus who does not care about you or the danger you put yourselves in each time you travel to Clubhouse. I am better than Clubhouse, and so are you.
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