As I strolled across campus last Saturday morning, I did something I have never done during my tenure here. I actually stopped to read one of the chalkings littering the sidewalks surrounding the Humanities building.

As always, numerous etchings about clubs and student groups were prominent, and I promptly ignored them. One chalking, however, caught my attention.

Before me was the outline of a body, similar to something that would be observed at a crime scene in some cheesy detective movie. Where its eyes should have been, two X’s were drawn. Scrawled beneath the body were the words, “Wanna Keep Your Shit Straight? Limit Yourself To Two Drinks.”

“Two drinks?” I thought to myself. The only time that I can remember not keeping my act together after two drinks was when those two drinks were either 40-ounce malt beverages or double Jack and Jacks from the Plaza.

“Two drinks?” I kept repeating it over and over in my head. Where in the hell did someone come up with that number? I reflected on my collegiate days in the hope of finding an answer.

As a freshman and sophomore I attended house parties. As I recall, and as I’m sure you recall, trying to get a beer from a keg at a crowded house party is no small feat. Sixty-five sweaty people crammed around a keg in a moldy basement, fighting over the tap, resembles a shark feeding frenzy seen on the Animal Planet channel. Add in a moron constantly yelling “house cup,” and getting two drinks will occupy most of your evening. No solution there.

In my upperclassmen days, I went out to the State Street bar scene. Unfortunately, the bar scene is strikingly familiar to the house party one, except someone else pours your drinks for you and they cost a hell of a lot more.

I still didn’t have the answer to my problem. Why is two the magic number? Then it dawned on me.

As it turns out, I am not able to determine what is appropriate alcohol consumption for myself. That job, it seems, falls into someone else’s lap.

The police department, alcohol license and review committee (ALRC), RWJ project, Harvard University and the administration of the University of Wisconsin have made that decision for me.

I am a binge drinker, by their definition, that is. A binge drinker, according to these prominent authorities, is anyone who consumes three or more alcoholic beverages in one sitting, on more than one occasion, in a two-week period. Not only am I a binge drinker, you probably are too; so are your roommates. The person sitting next to you now is probably a binge drinker and maybe your parents even fall under this characterization.

I never considered myself a binge drinker. I have never done the stereotypical things that come along with binge drinking. I’ve never taken a few belts of whiskey before class, I’ve never stopped off at a local watering hole before going home and smacking around loved ones and I’ve certainly never had a fifth of anything and then driven an oil tanker into a reef.

Nonetheless, I am a binge drinker, and I am a huge problem. As a result, the ALRC has tried several things to stop me. The mandatory keg registration has just passed with flying colors, and ALRC chair Tim Bruer is trying to make all drink specials illegal. The police department has upped their presence inside drinking establishments and around bar time.

I am not completely oblivious to the fact that drinking to excess is a problem. The Badger Herald reported that the number of students in detox was down this year. That number, however, still lingers around 125. This is still not a rare occurrence. Alcohol is a significant factor in a large number of the physical and sexual assaults that occur every year. Hundreds of accidents would be avoided and lives would not be lost if people practiced a little common sense.

Common sense. That is what it all comes down to. Common sense tells me that I am not a binge drinker. Common sense tells me when I have had too much to drink. And common sense also tells me that mandatory keg registration and making drink specials illegal will not stop the problem of binge drinking.
The authorities on all levels call for a “responsible alcohol policy.” Responsible alcohol policy hinges on one thing, personal responsibility. I do not mean to stand on a soapbox. I have gone out and drank until I was drunk. I had fun doing so. I’ll probably be drunk again sometime soon, maybe by the time I finish writing this article.
Personal responsibility is easy to exercise. Most of you do so each time you go out and consume alcohol. 125 people didn’t practice any personal responsibility and went to detox as a result. Anyone who has ever driven drunk, no matter how far, lacked personal responsibility, if even for only a few minutes.
So, to those who chalked up the Humanities building, the ALRC and all other prominent but misguided authorities on alcohol, I raise my third, fourth and fifth beers to you.