I write this as a plea to my fellow residents of Isla Vista. This will not be a much-anticipated political debate over the validity of Iraqi invasion. Nor will it be a long-winded argument contesting the use of stem cells for comatose life partners of gay marriage. Instead, I seek only to inform you of the bullshit near and dear to each of our nostrils; the sweet smell of I.V.’s finest.

On Monday, while most of I.V. merrily passed the day away in a drunken celebration of our presidents, I spent several hours at the library attempting to put a dent in a pair of research papers due next week. The bike ride home was cold, dismal and foreboding. Passing I.V. Theater and coming up to Super Kookas on my left, the street was empty save for a white cruiser peeking around Sabado.

Being sober, I felt I was in the clear, and so I cut onto El Embarcadero on the wrong side of the road. Only then did I hear the familiar screech of tires spinning and the comforting hues of red and blue.

I pulled my vehicle to the side of the road. “Is there a problem, officer?” Officer Borrago politely informed me that I had just blown through the stop sign while riding on the wrong side of the road. Holding my tongue and surrendering my student I.D. (my wallet has been missing since last Tuesday’s showing of “Constantine”), he continued to inform me that my bike was not registered with the state of California, my ACCESS card was not an acceptable form of identification and for that reason alone I should be taken downtown immediately. But the amiable officer smiled. “I’ll only cite you for biking against traffic,” he granted.

“Thank you, officer.”

“Do you want a mailer on a class to take to avoid a point on your license?”

“Yes officer, thank you.”

“Oops. I’m sorry, were all out of mailers.”

“Its OK, officer. Thank you anyway.”

He and his partner drove off. I stood dumbfounded, holding a yellow ticket and letting go of a little more respect for law enforcement.

In addition to learning that I was the worst bike rider in the history of I.V., Borrago informed me that the LV. Foot Patrol had decided to find another way to save us Isla Vistans from ourselves. He explained that the recent crackdown was the direct result of a bicycle fatality last month. I personally could not confirm the aforementioned incident, but neither could the information desk of the IVFP station, the records department of the California Highway Patrol or the records department of the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Dept.

In my humble opinion, it seems that with the Fourth Amendment thoroughly crushed, an innovative and creative way to maintain the Alcoholic Beverage Control grant must be found. If it means subjecting the students to sober bullshit tickets in addition to the usual Saturday night ones, so be it.

Zachary Hill is a sophomore classics major.