A couple weeks ago we went to the opening races of the Hong Kong Jockey Club in Happy Valley near Causeway Bay. There, you could bet on a horse and lose some money, be it through said gambling or booze.
I went because I thought it might be something of an experience—and it was, just not the one that I imagined. It happened the Wednesday before last and was advertised by the International Student Association here as an event worth going to because horse racing is a favorite pastime of Hong Kong.
Whereas I can see the Jockey Club’s influence everywhere here (because as a non-profit they charitably get money from the people who lost it on horses and give it to organization. I know that their name is plastered on a building or two on the HKU campus, as they probably donated funds to help build it. That’s all fine and dandy.
The theme for the night was gold, and if you wore gold, you’d get entered into a raffle for a special prize. I didn’t wear gold. I only saw a handful of people wearing gold.
From what I read, it was to be a classy event, but with two pitchers of beer (buy one get one free) for HK$120, most of the people on the ground level were drunk, many of which having bought a couple pitchers for themselves.
From what I saw, there were hardly any locals in sight. The crowdedness of the expats and tourists made me think it was more for expats and tourists than being a pastime of Hong Kong.
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Ugly World
So I’ve been talking about the prototypical stereotypical “Ugly American” over several posts prior. Loud and obnoxious, drinking to no end, the “Ugly American” was what we were told not to be. We were told that the rest of the world frowns on such seemingly senseless actions, but after what happened last night, not only do I have doubts about how inclusive the “Ugly American” is of Americans and exclusive of everyone else, but also I feel I sense a common humanity among the people of the world.
Last night was something of an unofficial gathering of the HKU international exchange students. We were to meet at HKU’s west gate and then venture over to the party area of Central by bus. People from the Sasoon Road Campus, myself included, met earlier and then trucked over to west gate together. There we found a small crowd of international students.
And that was my intention in going to this get together. As previously explained, I’m not a huge fan of drinking. I still have never been drunk, never hungover, and the most I’ve drunk at one time was one-and-a-half limoncellos in Sorrento, Italy. In short, I made no effort to disguise the fact that I was there primarily to meet-and-greet other exchange students.
I met a lot of people from Australia, Canada, the United States, and Europe mostly. It was a diverse group. I thought the gathering would be very casual—you know, maybe a drink or two—nothing big and explosive.
I’m not against drinking personally, despite what my actions seem to suggest. I always thought that I was more of a glass-of-wine-with-dinner kind of guy over a let’s-go-drink-the-night-away one. I don’t drink also because in the United States the appropriate age is 21, whereas most everywhere else it hovers around 18, as most people know.
And the little get-together was going great. The crowd began growing and before we knew it, we probably numbered in the low hundreds. I met more people than I could ever possibly remember (a sentiment shared by many of those students), and before I knew it we were being herded onto a double-decker bus.
Now trying to get some hundred people onto a single bus at a single bus stop is kind of a nightmare. First, we were on a two-lane road with blind curves, so we stopped all traffic behind the bus as we filed our way onto it. To make matters worse, most of us, having just arrived from our home countries used coins to pay the fare. Locals prefer to use so-called Octopus cards, which work like rechargeable, good-as-cash gift cards all around Hong Kong, that are way more convenient for purchasing as well as public transportation. Unfortunately, taxis only take cash, but that’s beside the point.
When all of us managed to get on the bus, over twenty of us didn’t have seats. Standing in the aisle, most of us used this highly claustrophobic time to acquaint ourselves with more people with varying levels of success.
We got off in Lai Kwai Fong in Central, which pretty much serves as Hong Kong’s party district, and the drinking began. Some people easily spent hundreds of Hong Kong dollars on drinks (as the prices at the bars were absolutely ridiculous). Most of us went onto this small pedestrian side street where there was a 7-Eleven, which was much, much cheaper than the bars, of course. Whereas the bars had loud music, the pedestrian street had lower volumes of it, allowing us to keep introducing ourselves and such.
I only had one beer the whole night, but as the night went on and the drinking began showing its effects, it became less a night about meeting other people and more about having drunken fun, I guess. And while the Americans drank to the effect of the “Ugly American” stereotype, others of different nationalities drank to that same effect. The taxis for hire were patrolling the streets for business as the partying went on and on and on.
While they remained in a drunken stupor, I became bored, being completely sober and all. Ugly American? I couldn’t help thinking that that classification is more deserving of the title “Ugly World.” As the night went on, I split a taxi back to my hall with two other people. I pronounced Sasoon more properly, with rounded lips and a French “u” for the “oo” of Sasoon and we found our way back easily.
The night was over and I was ready to go to sleep. And for the record, I still don’t see the point.
Last night was something of an unofficial gathering of the HKU international exchange students. We were to meet at HKU’s west gate and then venture over to the party area of Central by bus. People from the Sasoon Road Campus, myself included, met earlier and then trucked over to west gate together. There we found a small crowd of international students.
And that was my intention in going to this get together. As previously explained, I’m not a huge fan of drinking. I still have never been drunk, never hungover, and the most I’ve drunk at one time was one-and-a-half limoncellos in Sorrento, Italy. In short, I made no effort to disguise the fact that I was there primarily to meet-and-greet other exchange students.
I met a lot of people from Australia, Canada, the United States, and Europe mostly. It was a diverse group. I thought the gathering would be very casual—you know, maybe a drink or two—nothing big and explosive.
I’m not against drinking personally, despite what my actions seem to suggest. I always thought that I was more of a glass-of-wine-with-dinner kind of guy over a let’s-go-drink-the-night-away one. I don’t drink also because in the United States the appropriate age is 21, whereas most everywhere else it hovers around 18, as most people know.
And the little get-together was going great. The crowd began growing and before we knew it, we probably numbered in the low hundreds. I met more people than I could ever possibly remember (a sentiment shared by many of those students), and before I knew it we were being herded onto a double-decker bus.
Now trying to get some hundred people onto a single bus at a single bus stop is kind of a nightmare. First, we were on a two-lane road with blind curves, so we stopped all traffic behind the bus as we filed our way onto it. To make matters worse, most of us, having just arrived from our home countries used coins to pay the fare. Locals prefer to use so-called Octopus cards, which work like rechargeable, good-as-cash gift cards all around Hong Kong, that are way more convenient for purchasing as well as public transportation. Unfortunately, taxis only take cash, but that’s beside the point.
When all of us managed to get on the bus, over twenty of us didn’t have seats. Standing in the aisle, most of us used this highly claustrophobic time to acquaint ourselves with more people with varying levels of success.
We got off in Lai Kwai Fong in Central, which pretty much serves as Hong Kong’s party district, and the drinking began. Some people easily spent hundreds of Hong Kong dollars on drinks (as the prices at the bars were absolutely ridiculous). Most of us went onto this small pedestrian side street where there was a 7-Eleven, which was much, much cheaper than the bars, of course. Whereas the bars had loud music, the pedestrian street had lower volumes of it, allowing us to keep introducing ourselves and such.
I only had one beer the whole night, but as the night went on and the drinking began showing its effects, it became less a night about meeting other people and more about having drunken fun, I guess. And while the Americans drank to the effect of the “Ugly American” stereotype, others of different nationalities drank to that same effect. The taxis for hire were patrolling the streets for business as the partying went on and on and on.
While they remained in a drunken stupor, I became bored, being completely sober and all. Ugly American? I couldn’t help thinking that that classification is more deserving of the title “Ugly World.” As the night went on, I split a taxi back to my hall with two other people. I pronounced Sasoon more properly, with rounded lips and a French “u” for the “oo” of Sasoon and we found our way back easily.
The night was over and I was ready to go to sleep. And for the record, I still don’t see the point.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
"The Ugly American," Part 2
Sun God Festival is UCSD’s flagship event of the year. Though essentially a big concert, it was set up like a carnival and lasted from noon to midnight on Friday, May 15, on RIMAC (standing for something about recreation) Field, located on the north side of campus. There was the large “Main Stage” with an accompanying giant screen where the headlining bands played. On the opposite side of the field there was the “Dance Tent” where DJs did their thing club style. Center field there was “Midway,” a circular tent where many comedic and lower-key performances took place. Towards the west side there were the Student Organization Booths and the portapotties. Conveniently across the field from the portapotties was the food-court area, which serve pizza, teriyaki chicken, and funnel cakes.
Some of the musical performances on the main stage included Augustana, Sara Bareilles, and N.E.R.D. In Midway there was Cirque Berzerk (complete with flamethrowers and funny mime people-things) and Kaba Modern (of MTV’s America’s Best Dance Crew fame). That’s all fine and dandy—the default fun part.
The fun part was fun, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about. Sun God is seen as the one day when the UCSD campus comes alive. Normally seen as socially dead, UCSD becomes the party school that many wish it were. Students from other schools come down for the event to take part in the festivities. I myself saw many of my high school friends there. Fortunately, I saw them before they left to get drunk.
This brings me back to the “ugly American” stereotype again. Admittedly, I had only planned to write one post on this matter, but seeing the events surrounding my authorship, it would do well to reflect some more.
The Eleanor Roosevelt College campus is off in the northern area of campus, where few people go. I like it up here because of that fact. Although it takes me longer to walk to class than I would like, its placement off the beaten path makes it quiet. RIMAC Field, where Sun God took place, lies adjacent to ERC and as such, Friday night saw more people up there than usual.
Alcohol was not allowed into Sun God. To this effect, we had to empty all bottles so that no liquids were allowed in, in effect. So to get drunk many students would drink as much as they could before hand and then stumble in through the liquid checkpoints. According to my international drug policy professor, this is more dangerous than at parties, where drinking is more gradual and has time to process.
That night, the ERC campus (as well as Sun God) was bustling with tipsy people. I’d never seen it so crowded. My suite hosted three separate parties at the same time somehow. It reeked of alcohol and bad judgment. One of my suitemates drank what I believe to be vodka from a yellow bottle, sitting against the wall in a corner looking like a crying child. Another one of my suitemates looked more predatory than usual. All in all, their ‘good time’ looked like a group of people full of fake happiness and despair at the same time.
The next morning I woke up to find a mess in our common room. Our segmented couch was disjoined and those infamous red party cups were thrown all over the place. I saw what I thought to be vomit strewn all over the walls; and only later was I informed that it was just salsa. (Consolation?)
All I can say is I’m glad this doesn’t happen every week. I promise the next post will be more of an upper.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Some of the musical performances on the main stage included Augustana, Sara Bareilles, and N.E.R.D. In Midway there was Cirque Berzerk (complete with flamethrowers and funny mime people-things) and Kaba Modern (of MTV’s America’s Best Dance Crew fame). That’s all fine and dandy—the default fun part.
The fun part was fun, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about. Sun God is seen as the one day when the UCSD campus comes alive. Normally seen as socially dead, UCSD becomes the party school that many wish it were. Students from other schools come down for the event to take part in the festivities. I myself saw many of my high school friends there. Fortunately, I saw them before they left to get drunk.
This brings me back to the “ugly American” stereotype again. Admittedly, I had only planned to write one post on this matter, but seeing the events surrounding my authorship, it would do well to reflect some more.
The Eleanor Roosevelt College campus is off in the northern area of campus, where few people go. I like it up here because of that fact. Although it takes me longer to walk to class than I would like, its placement off the beaten path makes it quiet. RIMAC Field, where Sun God took place, lies adjacent to ERC and as such, Friday night saw more people up there than usual.
Alcohol was not allowed into Sun God. To this effect, we had to empty all bottles so that no liquids were allowed in, in effect. So to get drunk many students would drink as much as they could before hand and then stumble in through the liquid checkpoints. According to my international drug policy professor, this is more dangerous than at parties, where drinking is more gradual and has time to process.
That night, the ERC campus (as well as Sun God) was bustling with tipsy people. I’d never seen it so crowded. My suite hosted three separate parties at the same time somehow. It reeked of alcohol and bad judgment. One of my suitemates drank what I believe to be vodka from a yellow bottle, sitting against the wall in a corner looking like a crying child. Another one of my suitemates looked more predatory than usual. All in all, their ‘good time’ looked like a group of people full of fake happiness and despair at the same time.
The next morning I woke up to find a mess in our common room. Our segmented couch was disjoined and those infamous red party cups were thrown all over the place. I saw what I thought to be vomit strewn all over the walls; and only later was I informed that it was just salsa. (Consolation?)
All I can say is I’m glad this doesn’t happen every week. I promise the next post will be more of an upper.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Monday, May 18, 2009
"The Ugly American," Part 1
UCSD is known for its lack of social life. While not entirely true, there are notably less parties here than the notorious UC Santa Barbara or our neighbor San Diego State University. In reality, if by social life, parties are implied, we rank low, but if drugs and alcohol are thrown into the equation, our numbers are probably not much lower than everyone else. It has been said here that fun won’t be thrown at you, for you will have to go looking for it yourself. The perceived lack of alcohol and related socializing (or vice versa) is notorious here at UCSD, for all people do here is study, right? In short, I wouldn’t testify to that.
At the general orientation a couple of weeks ago, we were taught something about stereotypes and how to avoid them. The prevailing theme of this discussion was “the ugly American.” While it is probable that the average American could guess the meaning of these three words, I doubt a lot of my college classmates get the full extent of this stereotype, for most of them fall into that stereotype.
When oversees, avoid wearing college shirts, especially those with acronyms such as UCSD and SDSU because that just screams American college student. What it said then was don’t stick out like a sore thumb. Even if you don’t fall into the stereotype in the full sense of it, parts imply the whole. Hear Democrats, think gay rights; hear Republicans think religion—it’s the same concept.
In my opinion, the “ugly American” concept is not based on anything too far from the true lives of many undergraduate college students. It entails binge drinking at parties to feel looser and more socially apt, as well as being loud and obnoxious. Now the drinking part really hit me as odd. I personally don’t drink, and I know that alcohol is off-putting to me, not to mention illegal in non-medical, non-religious circumstances for people of my age in the United States. I would say that I buy into the stereotype that those Europeans drink a lot. I’ve heard stories of four-year-olds drinking in Croatia and lax enforcement of the drinking age in other countries. Granted, I haven’t been to Europe, though I am planning on going early this summer to France (mostly Paris) and Italy.
I recently had a conversation with a good friend of mine who goes to UCSD, and with whom I went to high school, about drinking and drugs. It did not turn out at all in the way that she seemed to have expected, though judging by the lack of feasibility of alternative answers, she must have had other motive that was in the end unfulfilled by my answer.
And I told her, “I honestly don’t see the fun in getting so drunk that you’re throwing up. I like being in my head, and an altered state of mind seems equally undesirable.” She told me that I was being on the offensive to the entire social aspect of her life. I apologized half-heartedly, but said that she had solicited my opinion, of which I had given.
She told me that drinking is the only thing that she does regarding drugs. She revealed to me that another old high school friend of mine was into experimenting with drugs, to which I was surprised. I guess you could say that this is where my naiveté becomes transparent and my ideology had to be shifted to accommodate others.
I always prized myself on having drug-free, alcohol-free (or what I like to call clean) friends. This stemmed from the effectiveness of the D.A.R.E. (or Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program on me. Administered in sixth grade, but now defunct, it involved having a police officer come to campus a couple times a week and lead us through the program. Sometimes the police officer would come to campus during lunch and show us how real handcuffs look and feel both on and off our wrists. The program worked on me, I believe, because I was not a rebel in short. I am not more righteous than others for my history, just to say that I am an active product of society rather than the unintentional-though-pervasive product of society, which creates the adolescent/teenage rebel culture.
Because the D.A.R.E. program was presented in a didactic fashion during school hours, rebelling against society included the program through school. When the ineffectiveness of the program was fully shown, it was cancelled, with the money that used to be appropriated to the program re-appropriated to hiring a full-time police officer for each of the three high schools in the school district.
As the high schools in Thousand Oaks were already safe, violent crime didn’t exactly go down. As I would find out later, drugs existed on campus in considerable quantities, and the presence of a police officer did little to decrease drug crime. All that it did was provide more immediate consequences for those caught.
As I would find out later, our Associated Student Government vice president was a pot dealer on campus, and many of the members of the club Students Against Drunk Driving (bouncing off of Mothers Against Drunk Driving) could be seen drinking vodka, Jose Cuervo, and other liquors from Pyrex measuring cups and those infamous red disposable plastic cups on Facebook.
My personal opinion on the matter has changed considerably since I came to UCSD. Before, I took to the D.A.R.E. philosophy that drugs are bad—drugs being any substance besides food that changes or alters bodily function. In my mind, it was an easy enough definition to deal with. Nicotine (tobacco) is bad, as is marijuana, alcohol, cocaine, and opiates (heroin).
I have never smoked first hand in my life, tried a marijuana joint, or dealt with any illicit drug. I know how alcohol tastes and I hate it, which is part of the reason why it has not been an issue to avoid drinking at college parties. On the other hand, many of students that I reside with in my suite do pot, with the frequency, might I add, as often as once every other day. In one seven-day period, O=one suitemate in particular was completely clean but one day.
This provided an overwhelming point of contention for me, because as I had long found solace in being drug free, suddenly I found myself in an environment where I felt as though I were the only level-headed one (or at least one of the very few). When I went from high school to college, I put myself under the impression that I would never have to feel in such a way again.
Up until recently, I was very put off by this experience and in the end I had to fix my mentality. No longer was I stuck in the confines of high school. Even in college, I was surrounded by less-than-savory people, and with no escape, I was forced to cope. I entered this last quarter with my faith in God and the knowledge that they could not change who I am if I don’t want them to.
My mother, the only person that I can really confide these feelings in, told me that I shouldn’t feel so down because of what other people do. She told me that I based by sense of morality in legality and the law, and maybe I shouldn’t so much. I began reevaluating what I believed to be the rule of law in society until I realized that my conception of the law in society fell in the same arena as a great ancient thinker.
Socrates and I were on the same wavelength. Socrates was sentenced to death for three charges that were frivolous at best. In his defense (The Apology) he failed to simply appease his jurors and answer his accusers. He made a scene of it and justified himself with the set of laws that was used to condemn him. When he was found guilty and subsequently sentenced to death, his good friend Crito came to help him escape. He refused his assistance to escape, and said that he must answer to the state that had so nourished him up until that point. Although he may have been unjustly sentenced, he would die as a testament to the legal system, for where would we be without our laws?
So where would we be without our laws? My studies during this quarter have led me to a class on international drug policy—and a revelation. A drug, or more specifically a psychoactive substance, includes the illegal (cocaine, marijuana, and heroin) and the partially legal (alcohol and nicotine), but also caffeine.
Caffeine has a full range of effects, including negative ones, consisting of insomnia, sweating, palpitations, headaches, etc. In addition, studies suggest that caffeine has a higher addiction rate than marijuana, as many a professional would tell you.
As science is showing, marijuana is not nearly as dangerous as initially thought and has lower addition rates that alcohol and nicotine, both partially legal drugs. So why are we still in such an uproar over keeping marijuana illegal? Logic leads one to ask why alcohol and nicotine are legal and a less harmful drug such as marijuana is illegal. That is why countries such as the Netherlands have decriminalized it.
This brings me to my new opinion of drugs and alcohol—moderation. The “ugly American” stereotype also stems from the treatment of marijuana by people in the United States. Similar to college students drinking to the point of unconsciousness, many Americans go to the Netherlands to engage in recreational marijuana, but I am told they over-indulge, treating marijuana as the forbidden fruit of the populace, being what alcohol is to the American under-aged.
However, even if marijuana were made legal, I would not participate recreationally along the same reasoning as why I choose not to smoke tobacco, thought it would be perfectly legal for me to do so. I am not an advocate for lowering the drinking age, but were I of age, I might engage lightly, but never to the point where I find myself bent over a trashcan nor where I might wake up in Mexico. The drinking age is 18 in Hong Kong, and as I will be 19, why not socialize a little?
In short, I am not a rebel to the rebels; I am a traditionalist among the insecure; I am a traditionalist among those who think they are traditionalist; I am a liberal American. Attack me now.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
At the general orientation a couple of weeks ago, we were taught something about stereotypes and how to avoid them. The prevailing theme of this discussion was “the ugly American.” While it is probable that the average American could guess the meaning of these three words, I doubt a lot of my college classmates get the full extent of this stereotype, for most of them fall into that stereotype.
When oversees, avoid wearing college shirts, especially those with acronyms such as UCSD and SDSU because that just screams American college student. What it said then was don’t stick out like a sore thumb. Even if you don’t fall into the stereotype in the full sense of it, parts imply the whole. Hear Democrats, think gay rights; hear Republicans think religion—it’s the same concept.
In my opinion, the “ugly American” concept is not based on anything too far from the true lives of many undergraduate college students. It entails binge drinking at parties to feel looser and more socially apt, as well as being loud and obnoxious. Now the drinking part really hit me as odd. I personally don’t drink, and I know that alcohol is off-putting to me, not to mention illegal in non-medical, non-religious circumstances for people of my age in the United States. I would say that I buy into the stereotype that those Europeans drink a lot. I’ve heard stories of four-year-olds drinking in Croatia and lax enforcement of the drinking age in other countries. Granted, I haven’t been to Europe, though I am planning on going early this summer to France (mostly Paris) and Italy.
I recently had a conversation with a good friend of mine who goes to UCSD, and with whom I went to high school, about drinking and drugs. It did not turn out at all in the way that she seemed to have expected, though judging by the lack of feasibility of alternative answers, she must have had other motive that was in the end unfulfilled by my answer.
And I told her, “I honestly don’t see the fun in getting so drunk that you’re throwing up. I like being in my head, and an altered state of mind seems equally undesirable.” She told me that I was being on the offensive to the entire social aspect of her life. I apologized half-heartedly, but said that she had solicited my opinion, of which I had given.
She told me that drinking is the only thing that she does regarding drugs. She revealed to me that another old high school friend of mine was into experimenting with drugs, to which I was surprised. I guess you could say that this is where my naiveté becomes transparent and my ideology had to be shifted to accommodate others.
I always prized myself on having drug-free, alcohol-free (or what I like to call clean) friends. This stemmed from the effectiveness of the D.A.R.E. (or Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program on me. Administered in sixth grade, but now defunct, it involved having a police officer come to campus a couple times a week and lead us through the program. Sometimes the police officer would come to campus during lunch and show us how real handcuffs look and feel both on and off our wrists. The program worked on me, I believe, because I was not a rebel in short. I am not more righteous than others for my history, just to say that I am an active product of society rather than the unintentional-though-pervasive product of society, which creates the adolescent/teenage rebel culture.
Because the D.A.R.E. program was presented in a didactic fashion during school hours, rebelling against society included the program through school. When the ineffectiveness of the program was fully shown, it was cancelled, with the money that used to be appropriated to the program re-appropriated to hiring a full-time police officer for each of the three high schools in the school district.
As the high schools in Thousand Oaks were already safe, violent crime didn’t exactly go down. As I would find out later, drugs existed on campus in considerable quantities, and the presence of a police officer did little to decrease drug crime. All that it did was provide more immediate consequences for those caught.
As I would find out later, our Associated Student Government vice president was a pot dealer on campus, and many of the members of the club Students Against Drunk Driving (bouncing off of Mothers Against Drunk Driving) could be seen drinking vodka, Jose Cuervo, and other liquors from Pyrex measuring cups and those infamous red disposable plastic cups on Facebook.
My personal opinion on the matter has changed considerably since I came to UCSD. Before, I took to the D.A.R.E. philosophy that drugs are bad—drugs being any substance besides food that changes or alters bodily function. In my mind, it was an easy enough definition to deal with. Nicotine (tobacco) is bad, as is marijuana, alcohol, cocaine, and opiates (heroin).
I have never smoked first hand in my life, tried a marijuana joint, or dealt with any illicit drug. I know how alcohol tastes and I hate it, which is part of the reason why it has not been an issue to avoid drinking at college parties. On the other hand, many of students that I reside with in my suite do pot, with the frequency, might I add, as often as once every other day. In one seven-day period, O=one suitemate in particular was completely clean but one day.
This provided an overwhelming point of contention for me, because as I had long found solace in being drug free, suddenly I found myself in an environment where I felt as though I were the only level-headed one (or at least one of the very few). When I went from high school to college, I put myself under the impression that I would never have to feel in such a way again.
Up until recently, I was very put off by this experience and in the end I had to fix my mentality. No longer was I stuck in the confines of high school. Even in college, I was surrounded by less-than-savory people, and with no escape, I was forced to cope. I entered this last quarter with my faith in God and the knowledge that they could not change who I am if I don’t want them to.
My mother, the only person that I can really confide these feelings in, told me that I shouldn’t feel so down because of what other people do. She told me that I based by sense of morality in legality and the law, and maybe I shouldn’t so much. I began reevaluating what I believed to be the rule of law in society until I realized that my conception of the law in society fell in the same arena as a great ancient thinker.
Socrates and I were on the same wavelength. Socrates was sentenced to death for three charges that were frivolous at best. In his defense (The Apology) he failed to simply appease his jurors and answer his accusers. He made a scene of it and justified himself with the set of laws that was used to condemn him. When he was found guilty and subsequently sentenced to death, his good friend Crito came to help him escape. He refused his assistance to escape, and said that he must answer to the state that had so nourished him up until that point. Although he may have been unjustly sentenced, he would die as a testament to the legal system, for where would we be without our laws?
So where would we be without our laws? My studies during this quarter have led me to a class on international drug policy—and a revelation. A drug, or more specifically a psychoactive substance, includes the illegal (cocaine, marijuana, and heroin) and the partially legal (alcohol and nicotine), but also caffeine.
Caffeine has a full range of effects, including negative ones, consisting of insomnia, sweating, palpitations, headaches, etc. In addition, studies suggest that caffeine has a higher addiction rate than marijuana, as many a professional would tell you.
As science is showing, marijuana is not nearly as dangerous as initially thought and has lower addition rates that alcohol and nicotine, both partially legal drugs. So why are we still in such an uproar over keeping marijuana illegal? Logic leads one to ask why alcohol and nicotine are legal and a less harmful drug such as marijuana is illegal. That is why countries such as the Netherlands have decriminalized it.
This brings me to my new opinion of drugs and alcohol—moderation. The “ugly American” stereotype also stems from the treatment of marijuana by people in the United States. Similar to college students drinking to the point of unconsciousness, many Americans go to the Netherlands to engage in recreational marijuana, but I am told they over-indulge, treating marijuana as the forbidden fruit of the populace, being what alcohol is to the American under-aged.
However, even if marijuana were made legal, I would not participate recreationally along the same reasoning as why I choose not to smoke tobacco, thought it would be perfectly legal for me to do so. I am not an advocate for lowering the drinking age, but were I of age, I might engage lightly, but never to the point where I find myself bent over a trashcan nor where I might wake up in Mexico. The drinking age is 18 in Hong Kong, and as I will be 19, why not socialize a little?
In short, I am not a rebel to the rebels; I am a traditionalist among the insecure; I am a traditionalist among those who think they are traditionalist; I am a liberal American. Attack me now.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
