Living down at the beach, and everything that comes with it, is a coveted Fairfield tradition. It is a tradition that alumni ask about when they pull you over doing 80 on a Vermont highway, a tradition that newspapers and news channels have debated and discussed since the beginning of binge drinking and, unfortunately, one that is slowly coming under fire. But why? That’s the one question I want an answer to.
Here’s a little background: Here we are, four weeks into school, and the three hour meetings we sat through on the Point and in the Quick Center are seemingly distant memories. Here’s all you need to know: There were a lot of uniforms at those meetings, mostly blue and tight with ugly boots, and a few fire marshals thrown in for fun. There was one officer who loved, I mean really loved, the phrase “setting the tone.” There was, however, a lot of pleasant talk of zero tolerance, noise complaints and the Bridgeport district court.
The key plot point you need to know is this: The law enforcers of Fairfield aren’t afraid to arrest us. At another uplifting meeting, a peppy blonde stood up on the sea wall of the Point and claimed in her bitter, judgmental voice that all the traditions we have come to love and looked forward to since freshman year will not happen this year, or any year after this. She mentioned something about laws and decrees. Arrested was definitely thrown in there too; just the kinds of words you’re dying to hear your second day of senior year.
Despite all the imminent threats to our mostly clean records, these past four weeks have still felt like a dream world, and there’s still hope that the traditions will live on. We sit in our beach chairs in between classes, drink beer at the Point on Saturdays, and, personally, wake up sore after a night of dancing at The Grape. It’s hard, as the weeks tick away, not to worry about loosing treasured traditions and valued milestones.
How can we possibly graduate and leave the Stagland without having Naut nights, or one single day in May where we love clams? How can Fairfield end without a beautiful beach wedding, or a brutal football beatdown? Can the traditions we love so much really cause so many problems, so many court dates and so many sleepless nights for the police and residents of Fairfield that they have to take them away completely?
If so, we’re truly sorry (kinda) but compromise seems like a reasonable idea to me. There has to be a middle ground to come to without lawsuits and banning events, that allows us as seniors to have the year of our lives without memorizing the Bridgeport court system, or torturing the po-po.
Traditions are the moments and memories we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. So I say, if a trip to the slammer is what it takes, I’ll take the hit, and I’ll see you at Clam Jam.
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