It’s in Judicial’s hands now.
I don’t know what, but rest assured Judicial is dealing with it. I wasn’t aware that such an entity existed on campus until last Tuesday, when I was served papers detailing my latest, unforgivable infraction. From assumption, Judicial is a governing body of five to six people somewhere around here that DPS reports to like the Wizard of Oz, just five Imax screens with floating heads and pluming green smoke, where officers dutifully drop off their reports for sentencing.
I was written up Tuesday night for violating a noise complaint on campus. If you know me, the loudest I ever am is on this page in the Graphic … and these are silent words accompanied by the occasional ALL CAPS PEJORATIVE.
I had just gotten out of my night class when an old friend called up to reminisce about the good ole days (last semester). It had been a while, so I stopped what I was doing to catch up. He pulled into the turnaround, and for 90 minutes we enjoyed a lovely conversation; audio level never peaking beyond 70 decibels.
It was a fine evening. That is, until three DPS cars barreled around the curb like they were filming “The Dukes of Hazzard.” I didn’t think anything of it until one of the officers beelined toward me and asked for my information. Then I thought something of it.
He explained that someone in a neighboring dorm, just trying to sleep, called in a noise complaint. I apologized and asked in fear what would happen to my status as a Pepperdine undergrad.
“It’s in Judicial’s hands,” he said ominously before shaking my hand and running off. And when I say “running off,” that’s literally what I mean. He ran back to his car and skidded out of there like DPS was conducting a scavenger hunt that night and he didn’t want to relinquish his lead.
I walked back to my dorm feeling like a jerk. And then it hit me; it was Tuesday night at 11:40 p.m.! Quiet hours start at 10 p.m., but this isn’t Occupied Poland, that can’t mean, “no talking outside after 10 p.m.” Because that’s what we were doing, conducting a genial conversation, and if reminiscing with an old friend in a public place isn’t quiet enough for you — person who snitched on me — I suggest you look into schools that do away with all this annoying “socializing” stuff; you know, a school like the University of Phoenix?
Schedules around here are all the same. Nothing goes on Wednesday mornings until 10 at the earliest, so that means to get your necessary eight hours of sleep you’d have to be in bed by 1a.m. It was 11:30 p.m.! That’s just selfish. Now I have to deal with a looming Judicial hearing on top of all my speech therapy sessions helping to relocate my “inside voice.”
I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep that night, Lilo & Snitch, I really am. But maybe you could’ve opened your window, or walked out your door, and just asked us to quiet down, like a normal person. If we were close enough to make your sleep impossible, then you were close enough to fix the problem.
And you did. You called DPS. And I think that is WEAK SAUCE.
