Drive-through daiquiris in the Big Easy
By Hallie Goldberg


While some people say Boston University is a serious party school, I beg to differ. I transferred to BU from Tulane University in the heart of New Orleans, where the city never sleeps (literally, bars are open 24 hours a day). If you've ever been there, you'd recognize the ultimate party school.

Let's start with the most important factor: The drinking age is 18. Yes, as a freshman you can get completely loaded and not have to scrounge for a fake ID.

There are drive-through daiquiri bars— talk about drinking and driving. It was normal to see people driving with a beer in their hand. Or how about the fraternity parties, where the cops would drink with you?

If you think life is great at BU, that Boston is the greatest place on earth, take a trip to the Big Easy for a few days. I guarantee that your views will change as you are lured into the pleasure-filled world where the beer is endlessly flowing, the food is to die for and oh, that southern comfort. And I haven't even gotten to the best part— Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest.

When else but during Mardi Gras can you see thousands of women shamelessly exposing themselves to get plastic bead necklaces? Yes, I was a bead slut, one of many who eagerly exposed themselves to get the most beads.

And how about getting a tan in December? I kid you not, Tulane has an area called the "Social Deck," which has a pool to dip in when you grow too hot from the sun, and lounge chairs to perfect your tan between classes.

Freshman year, the store next to my dorm delivered cigarettes, Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and all sorts of alcohol, kegs included.

And then there's the French Quarter, one of the most sinful places on earth. There's a strip joint every 200 feet, a bar every 10, and music and dancing everywhere.

Instead of pretzel and hot dog vendors like you see in Boston or New York, New Orleans has vendors selling Jello shots and cherry bombs—151 rum with chocolate syrup and a cherry.

You can have open containers of alcohol on the streets; it's just one big party that continues for blocks and blocks. A pitcher of beer costs a penny, and bars offered 50-cent shots. One place had an all-you-can-drink night— $5 bought unlimited alcohol.

Of course, if I ever had to buy a drink, it was a bad night— southern gentlemen were always more than willing to buy a pretty gal a drink.

After all these leisure-time activities, you might wonder why I transferred to BU. Although I loved Tulane, it was too much. Partying six or seven nights a week was something that I couldn't continue to do for four years if I wanted to get a decent job. The academics there were only mediocre, and I realized I wanted more specialized academics courses, hence the change to the College of Communication. Plus, I missed the East Coast.

It might be hard to understand, but I missed the changing of the seasons, the fall foliage and the faster pace of life. New Orleans was a little too slow for me, and so were the people. Many students I met at Tulane had a much narrower view of life and only concerned themselves with things that involved them. That's why I've come to BU to expose myself to new people and get an amazing education. But I do miss those wild nights in N'awlins with the drive-through daiquiri stands.