GETTING WASTED
Getting Wasted
Why College Students Drink Too Much and Party So Hard
Thomas Vander Ven
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS
New York and London
www.nyupress.org
© 2011 by New York University
All rights reserved
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Vander Ven, Thomas, 1966–
Getting wasted : why college students drink too much and party so hard/
Thomas Vander Ven.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978–0–8147–8831–8 (cl : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–8147–8832–5
(pb : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–8147–8840–0 (e-book)
1. College students—Alcohol use—United States. I. Title.
HV5135.V36 2011
362.292’208420973—dc22 2011005585
New York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper,
and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability.
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For Tory and Sam
CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgments
1 This Is the Shit Show!
An Introduction to College Drinking
2 Getting Wasted: The Intoxication Process
3 Being Wasted: Fun, Adventure, and
Transformation in the World of College Drinking
4 When Everything Falls Apart:
Meeting the Challenges of the College Drinking Scene
5 The Morning After: Hangovers and Regrets
6 Using Drunk Support:
Responding to the Persistence of Heavy Drinking
Methodological Appendix
Notes
Bibliography
Index
About the Author
PREFACE
Getting Wasted is the product of over seven years of research and writing. Before I started this project in 2003, it never occurred to me to study university drinking cultures. Like so many people who live and work in college towns, I was well aware of alcohol’s mammoth presence on campus but I regarded heavy drinking among college students as obvious, self-explanatory, and inevitable. I think most people see college drinking in this way: “Of course they are getting wasted; they’re in college!” How has our society come to see college and drinking as synonymous? Maybe this is the case because our popular culture often depicts university life in this way. Animal House, a seminal film about a group of drunken, out-of-control, anti-intellectual fraternity guys, was a must-see movie for those of us who grew up in the 1970s. And most of the feature films about college life released since Animal House have reproduced similar themes. That is, most Hollywood depictions of college life suggest that it is all about drinking, sex, and finding ways to succeed without actually doing any “real” studying.
And maybe many people blindly accept the “college is drinking” theme because that is how university culture was originally presented to them by parents and older siblings. When I was a high school student in the early 1980s, my friend and I visited my older sister at Gettysburg College, a well-respected liberal arts school in Pennsylvania. Let’s just say that we didn’t tour the library, perform scientific experiments, or explore the mysteries of mathematics while we were there. As far as I could tell from my brief weekend visit, many Gettysburg students were getting hammered as if their lives depended on it. A couple of years later, in 1984, I enrolled as a freshman at Indiana University. I am a proud Indiana alumnus. There are many outstanding academic programs, faculty, and students there. But, make no mistake about it, there was (and still is) some serious partying going on there. And I never questioned it. Alcohol just appeared to be a necessary part of the social and cultural landscape. Furthermore, I don’t remember university administrators, parents, or social critics fretting much about alcohol abuse on campus in those days. It was a “given.”
In 2001, I accepted a job as an assistant professor of sociology and criminology at Ohio University. My wife and I were thrilled. We had always wanted to live in a college town and, as college towns go, few are more beautiful or more idyllic than Athens, Ohio. Ohio University is a fine institution with many highly regarded programs throughout the school. And, according to the Princeton Review, it is also currently ranked as the number two “party school” in the nation. There are good reasons to be critical of the Princeton Review’s party school list. Critics of the list have called the Princeton study “unscientific,” pointing out that sometimes as few as 1 percent of the students at a given institution are surveyed in order for a school to achieve the “party school” distinction. But just as it is for university students across the nation, drinking is an important part of the college experience for some Ohio University students. I became aware of this fact soon after I arrived in Athens but, again, I regarded the party scene with an uncritical eye.
And then, in 2003, I had sort of a revelation. By this time, a large body of scholarly literature had emerged about alcohol use and abuse among college students. Most researchers agreed that heavy drinking on American campuses was a problem. On the basis of survey results, scholars argued that “binge drinking” was a common activity and that alcohol abuse on campus was associated with a variety of negative outcomes, including school failure, vandalism, violent assaults, and sexual victimization. These findings were not particularly controversial. Most people would agree that drunk people have a tendency to get into trouble. For me, however, the growing body of college alcohol research studies told only part of the story. I was already convinced that many college students drank and that heavy alcohol consumption had some deleterious effects, but I was concerned that scholars had focused almost exclusively on surveying individuals and had not attempted to understand the social processes of alcohol use on campus. That is, researchers would generally ask individual college students about their drinking habits and about the consequences of their consumption, but paid scant attention to the ways in which students drank together. This seemed like a glaring omission to me. I suspected that these young men and women worked together to decide when to drink, what to drink, and how much to consume, and collaborated together to manage the variety of consequences that they were likely to face in the drinking scene. I began to see college drinking in a brand new way, and since I worked and lived in a college town, I saw an opportunity to study this topic up close and in depth. I began to see the college campus and the drinking culture within it as a social laboratory. Through my professional contacts, I was able to investigate the university drinking scene at three different campuses. The majority of my data were collected at a large state university in the American Midwest (hereafter referred to by the pseudonym “Midwestern State University”).
What I found out during my research was fascinating to me and, by turns, both entertaining and troubling. For one thing, there is a powerful duality present in the college party culture. Sometimes it appears that college drinkers are havin
g the time of their lives. A few years ago, my son Sam (who was about seven years old at the time) looked out the window of our car at a group of college students drinking beer and playing a game of cornhole (a simple competition that involves throwing beanbags into a hole) at a house party. Admiring their gathering, which was a familiar sight to him by now, Sam announced excitedly, “Look at them; that’s just classic!” I knew exactly what he meant. There is a vibrancy and camaraderie emanating from student parties that is simply undeniable. On the other hand, darkness, destruction, and violence are also always lurking in the college drinking scene. Just today, I read an internet report about a University of Idaho senior who recently died of respiratory failure after reportedly drinking over fifteen shots in two and half hours to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. So, while it was apparent to me that college students were having fun when they drank together, I also knew that sometimes things “got ugly”; sometimes the vibrancy and camaraderie ends in tragedy. This idea led me to a basic research question: Why do university students continue to consume large amounts of alcohol when so many bad things can and do emerge as a result? This book is, in part, an attempt to answer that question.
Maybe I should be worried that my young son was gazing admiringly at a party scene. Has growing up in a college town put him on the path to binge drinking? You see, I am a researcher, but I’m also a parent. As a sociologist, I strive to see college drinking in an objective and value-free way. One of my professors in graduate school once told me that we should examine social processes as “they are” and not as “they should be.” This was my goal when I collected and analyzed the data for Getting Wasted. I did my best to let the students tell their stories and always aimed for unbiased objectivity as I interpreted my findings. But, as a parent and human being, I honestly do worry about the consequences of heavy drinking on campus. My daughter, Tory, will be a first-year college student next year and I want her to have the fullest experience possible. I hope that she finds an academic discipline that inspires her and that she follows her intellectual curiosity down new and exciting avenues. And, while I hope that she has a good time, too, I also want her to be safe. My hope is that she and her college cohorts will read this book and see it not as an invitation to recklessly explore the pleasures of serial intoxication but as an attempt to understand college drinking in a progressive, systematic, sociological way. I learned a lot from my informants, and their insights can be put to good use. Ideally, this book will help researchers, college administrators, and university students and their parents to see and appreciate the complexities of college drinking in a new light and to find fresh approaches to reducing the harms related to college drinking.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am fortunate that college students like to talk and write about the university drinking scene. My research informants were eager to tell their stories and to offer their insights about college alcohol use. Some of the more enthusiastic students I met invited me to street festivals and house parties and told their friends that I was “Okay” when their peers wondered why I was lurking about. Thanks to all of these students for making my data collection possible. Along the way, my study was facilitated by an outstanding group of undergraduate and graduate student research assistants. These industrious students recruited informants, coded data, transcribed interviews, and at times just sat in my office and riffed with me about the behaviors and rituals of college drinkers. Thanks to Jeff Beck, Kelsey Blazetic, Chris Campbell, Carolyn Wood Condren, Adam Farbman, Lauren Hively, Eric Johnson, Rachel Lewandowski, Adam Metz, Josh Mound, and Patrick O’Brien.
Over the years, I’ve been surrounded by a dynamic collection of sociologists and criminologists who offered encouragement and support in every stage of my career. First, I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my two mentors, Mark Colvin and Frank Cullen. Both of these men are responsible for shaping my sociological imagination, for helping me to build confidence in myself, and for always being available to me when I’m in need of advice. Any success that I’ve had in my career is directly attributable to them. Thanks, Mark and Frank, for your guidance and friendship. This study was supported in a variety of ways by my friends and colleagues scattered throughout the field. The following scholars helped me in a variety of ways to conceptualize the study, to realize its design, and to encourage me to complete it: Leon Anderson, Andrew Golub, Jennifer Hartman, Rick Matthews, Bill Miller, David Purcell, and Michael Turner. Moreover, I was lucky to have had the support of Deb Henderson, Chris Mattley, and the rest of my colleagues and the office staff of the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Ohio University. And, a special thank you to Ben Ogles, dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Ohio University, who, early on in the life of the project, made some casual suggestions that turned out to be critical to the eventual research design.
My family is lucky to have had the support of good friends who contributed to this project in many ways. Our friends have provided stress relief, sympathetic understanding, childcare, and good humor along the way. Special thanks to our extended family in Athens and to the Boger family for all that you do. I have also been blessed with a supportive family that showed great interest in my study and encouraged me to the end. My mother reminds me all of the time that she is proud of me. Thanks, Mom. I never get tired of hearing that.
This book was shepherded to completion by my editor at NYU Press, Ilene Kalish. Ilene was kind, patient, honest, and direct throughout the process. She believed in the project from the very start and demonstrated that she was committed to making the book the best that it could be. Thanks, Ilene, for your extraordinary efforts.
In my experience, the actual writing of a book is a pretty solitary process. Most of the manuscript was written between 11:00 P.M. and 3:00 in the morning, after my family had gone to sleep. It was just me and a laptop in a dimly lit basement. Occasionally, Emily, one of our beloved family dogs, would walk downstairs to check on me; it was always nice to see her. And when I woke up the next morning after a few hours of sleep (and sometimes frustrated about the project) my wife and children were there to remind me about what matters most to me. As she does in every other facet of my life, my wife, Marikay, supplied an endless stream of unconditional love and support during the completion of the book. And many of the ideas developed in this study emerged from our long patio discussions together about the complexities of university drinking culture. Marikay was the first one to read and comment on early drafts of the book, and no one had as must impact as she on its final form. Thanks, Marikay. And, finally, I want to thank my children, Tory and Sam, for the love, laughter, and pride that you bring to my life every day. This book is for you.
1 THIS IS THE SHIT SHOW!
An Introduction to College Drinking
It’s 2:00 A.M. and the bars just closed. There are dozens of young men and women gathered in the gas station parking lot in the bar district. A young woman has fallen and she can’t get up without help from her friends. I can’t tell if she is crying or laughing. Maybe both. It’s loud out here (shouting, singing). Two young men are locked up, fighting. Each one has a hold on the other’s shirt front. A young woman (his girlfriend?) is trying to pull one of them away, pleading with him to stop. Young men stand near the fight watching. They are amused. Up and down the street people are walking (some staggering) in clusters of three to five. No one seems to notice me, even when they almost knock me down as I take notes. This feels a little like “Night of the Living Dead.” They are zombies unleashed by the bars into a world inhabited by a few sobers (me and the few cops I see out here). I wouldn’t want to have to control this. I’ve heard students refer to the Shit Show and this is it. This is the Shit Show!
(Field notes, Fall 2008)
Many college students like to get wasted, train-wrecked, obliterated, hammered, destroyed, and fucked up. The terms that university students most commonly use to describe severe alcohol intoxication share a common theme: destruction. But what is it that they are trying to d
estroy? Are heavy drinkers tearing down one version of their self and constructing another? Are they obliterating the boring, everyday, unproblematic world in which they live and replacing it with the Shit Show, where anything can happen? “The Shit Show”1 refers to a chaotic drinking episode characterized by dramatic drunkenness, human wreckage, and primitive behavior. It is a party train that has gone off the rails. When students refer to the Shit Show it is with equal parts disgust and delight. Yes, things got out of hand, but in an entertaining sort of way. Here, a twenty-two-year-old male student explains the versatility of this concept:
Something always gets broken. Somebody dropped a glass, you know, somebody knocked over a cup, somebody broke our thermostat. As the night goes on people tend to get rowdier and rowdier and guys want to get in fights. Girls want to start yelling at their boyfriends. You know, that kind of stuff, as the night goes on… the funny people get funnier, either because they’re drunk or everyone else is.… It’s a good time, you know?
Collective drunkenness, then, can be a mixed bag of violence, histrionics, and good times. While the Shit Show may not represent all or even most college drinking experiences, it is a useful image. The “Show” is a wide-screen, amplified image of the duality of college drinking—it captures the euphoria and the frustration, the laughter and the vandalism, and the emergent affection and mounting violence of group intoxication. But the Shit Show is more than just a useful image; it lives in the scholarly research on college drinking as well. Thanks to a large body of data we know that, in general, college students drink a lot, and we know that getting drunk is related to a variety of negative outcomes. But why do they do it? How do they accomplish drunkenness and how do they manage its ill effects? What is the function of serial alcohol intoxication? This study is an attempt to address these questions, and more.
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