Letter From the Editor

From my office window here in SOPO, my view may not be the bustling gaiety of a shiny new roundabout, but there’s just as much honking and probably twice as much bank robbing. It can have the homey, neighborhood feel of a refugee camp, or it can feel like a commentary on the state of the world—with Nantucket on one corner and that lady selling the self-proclaimed “finest crack rocks in town” on another corner.

 

At the foot of our stairs, we have a camera that keeps an eye on the street and helps us determine who can come up to the inner sanctum. It also occasionally catches a guy making a getaway after robbing the TriCounties Bank next door. Those are the exciting days. We witness car crashes in the intersection, hollering hobos, street urchins smoking ganj in the alley by our building (which inadvertently ends up occasionally hotboxing the ladies’ room if the window’s open). All manner of Chico-Americans pass under my window on any given day. When you work above a sketchy barbershop with a pawnshop next door, your neighbors are a tire shop, a bank, Nantucket, and the 6th Street Youth Center; your view is a collage of the colorful.

 

Speaking of colorful, the Labor Day float is coming up! I get that the Labor Day float isn’t really about celebrating “Labor Day”—it’s about partying balls until you’re sunburned, wasted, and out of beer. I know because I was one of those kids once. Do I begrudge college kids a good time? No way, get your goodtimes on!  But if you don’t have the testicular fortitude to stay sober on a river, haul out your own trash, and act like a responsible Earthling while floating down a living, wild ecosystem, then maybe keep your ass at the Zoo and get pied in a padded room.

 

I want to see you survive your youthful freedom and grow into adults who will one day also feel disgusted with the annual blatant disrespect to the environment and the waste of taxpayer dollars that it takes to protect you while you’re out there with your heads up your asses. Either get over the floating party, or agree to float down a major river sober, haul out what you bring in, and start taking care of each other. Take it upon yourselves to do what your predecessors didn’t do: clean up Beercan Beach when you leave. Don’t get wasted, start fights, rip off bikinis, or assault each other. Don’t let your friends float alone. Respect the situation. And float on.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Sara makes the words happen.

Comments

  1. Jen Cartier says:

    Amen, bro.