I feel personally attacked after the Connecticut Post’s front page story about “drunken and rowdy college students at Fairfield beach.” The story itself could not have been more biased. It was all about how we, as students, are loud and drunk all the time.
How ironic: an article all about us without a single quotation from a student. That is totally fair to attack an entire group of people without giving them the slightest chance to object or speak for themselves; great move on the journalist’s part, too.
A year-round resident mentioned in the article said, “Every class has a separate character to it, and we seem to have a class of drinkers this year.” Wow. Last time I checked, I was a human being. I know I’m a college kid who lives on Fairfield Beach Road, so automatically that is a strike against me, but I do more than drink.
I have great relationships with adults. I do well in school and I am an individual in every sense of the word. I don’t need to be lumped together and judged by someone who doesn’t even know me. There is no possible way a person can “characterize” any class.
And if we are this class of “drinkers,” why is it that previous classes have ruined our chances to have Fairfield University traditions such as Mock Wedding or 200 Nights? So what was their “character”?
Besides being biased, the Connecticut Post was also incorrect. There is not a bus that takes underclassmen to the beach, and Sunday is certainly not the new party night. We also don’t “gather in the street” with cups of beer. That’s blatantly stupid and anyone who has spent more than one night at Fairfield Beach knows it’s not OK to leave your own yard carrying alcohol. If we are going to be insulted, I prefer it have grounds in legitimacy.
The year-round residents of Fairfield Beach Road undoubtedly had some alcohol-fueled fun in their college days. Is it a wedding ring and a few kids that put an ocean of separation between us? Are they truly that far removed from “the best years of their lives”?
I tried to meet my neighbors, despite the contemptuous looks they shoot me daily. I only talk to one of them. He’s seven years old and every time we’re talking, his parents yell at him to get inside, as though I’m a child molester trying to lure him away.
I’ve actually been taking care of kids for nine years. I am certified by the American Red Cross as a Professional Rescuer as well as in CPR and First Aid. I am a valuable babysitter, but I’m a beach resident college kid, so I need not apply.
Some residents actually like us. This is yet another point the Connecticut Post overlooked. Some are (gasp!) understanding of our lifestyle either because they’ve lived it, or because they currently have a son or daughter doing the same thing.
Buying a house on Fairfield Beach Road and complaining about the noise is like buying a house beside train tracks and complaining about being woken up every morning. You knew it was there when you bought it.
Newsflash: I pay, too. I’m 21 years old and if I want to have two kegs in my beautiful waterfront house and be out until 11 p.m., then that’s my right to do so. Is it my fault people walk up and down the street drunk? Nope, because they’re probably freshmen who don’t know anyone and don’t know where to go, which is why they have to roam drunkely. Yes, there are some sloppy drunks at Fairfield University but they’re not all out at all times on Fairfield Beach Road.
Not all Fairfield University kids are the ones you see at the beach slurring words and stumbling. We like to have a good time. Fairfield isn’t easy, and sometimes we want to let loose. I’m a senior and next year, residents will have a new crop of students to hate.
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