Op-Ed What happened to ClubMidd?

Author: David Infante

I was accepted to Middlebury College a little over a year ago and I was thrilled. To be honest with you, I felt as though I was en route to flavor country, wherever that nebulous region of the nation may be. I mean, this place touts itself as ClubMidd, which at the time of my acceptance seemed to be a cute little pun. Any place that implies its position in the American collegiate community as analogous to an international chain of all-inclusive resorts clearly must have some reason to do so. I got here, unpacked my bags and settled in, ready for the free drinks and the jetski rides, but after two semesters, the level of boredom I have been subjected to is roughly as high as Robert Downey Jr., pre-Ally McBeal. I chose to apply to Middlebury last year because it appeared to have the blend of academics, athletics and social life I sought. From the outside looking in, Middlebury has every appearance of a "work hard, play hard" school, but in my time here, the weekends have offered nothing but consistent and largely unbridled disappointment regardless of semester or season.

The social scene here consists of options that, from what I gather, fall into two convenient categories. On one hand, you have the "alternative experience" state of affairs, which generally consists of some sort of student band playing their take on Phish's Phinal Pharewell. This type of event is in direct competition with other gripping and distinctly MCAB-type opportunities. These inclue Viva Ross Vegas and the recent and delightful $6,000 Brainerd Party, after leaving which I have been unable to think about anything save the fact that $6,000 was spent on what appeared to be the same moonwalk that I wanted but did not get for my fifth birthday party. Seriously, I don't know who had a hand in planning that fiasco, but I would talk to the rental company if I were you because the $6,000 virtual car game required about $6,000 worth of repairs. Pub Night? Get ready for more alt-rock. If you want to watch a game on the big screen you better be able to pick Dick Vitale's voice out over the din of Alanis Morrisette's "Latest and Greatest" emanating from the stage. Either that or you could sleep in some sort of igloo/wigwam concoction along with half the residents of Weybridge House during Get Outside week. Fine, the organized events are sub-par. What's Option B, you ask?

The second route you can take as a freshman here at Middlebury, is to drink heavily and pray to God that Public Safety decides not to grace you with their presence on that specific evening. For example, two weekends ago, the hockey team won their final home game of the season, so I figured (despite the almost-insurmountable empirical evidence I have amassed to the contrary over the past seven months now) that the campus might get a little wild that night. I'm no expert on higher education, but I was under the impression that when your team wins a big game, parties happen.

I'm not going to catalogue my night for you step-by-step because it was so unremittingly discouraging that via text it might literally bore you to death. But for the sake of argument, that Saturday night was the lowest, most unbelievably uneventful night I have experienced since freshman year of high school. I'll go out on a limb here and say that a good game of Scrabble in conjunction with C-Span on loop at the regional nursing home would have been more exciting than a Saturday in our little slice of paradise. I mean honest to God, before I came here I had no inkling of a warning that on Saturday night at Middlebury, the only thing going on campus was some sort of "International Dance Party Extravaganza" and roughly two rooms of limited capacity playing drinking games surreptitiously before Public Safety felt the need to shut it all down - at 12 a.m. As I watched two Public Safety officers move about the crowd of people standing in the halls checking IDs, I remembered why I don't bother getting excited for the weekends here. There's no reason to lie to myself anymore.

Before I came here, I did not support the idea of fraternities. In fact, the absence of Greek life on this campus was originally one of the main reasons I chose Middlebury. However, now that I've seen the general malaise with which this institution handles any given Friday or Saturday night, I have begun to recognize the purpose fraternities serve on campus. With an administration that refuses to honor any sort of gray area concerning alcohol on a college campus, and social houses that are either shut down or unwilling to throw big parties, this place lacks any such catalyst to elevate the social experience. Coupled with an ambitious alcohol policy that prohibits drinking in first-year dorms, the only recourse for first-year students interested in a conventional college experience involves drinking vigorously and in secret before venturing out to a party at which they cannot get served.

So, with the end of my first year in site, I've given some serious thought to the whole "ClubMidd" issue. I feel as though I've been cheated out of a quarter of my undergraduate career. I came to this place because I thought it stood for the type of raucous college experience that simultaneously incorporates both rigorous academics and an active social scene, but after almost a year here, the term "ClubMidd" has become my punch line to the joke that is the Middlebury party scene, rather than a dubious moniker I would wear with pride. This school is slated to overtake Williams as the No. 1 "Work Hard, Work Harder" school on the Eastern Seaboard, but my disappointment in this place far overwhelms my irritation with it. All I can say is that I did not sign up for this. And I have yet to receive either a free drink or a jetski ride.

David Infante is a Freshman from Chester, NJ.