So long, bubble.

In 40-some odd drunken days from now, myself and many other graduating seniors will see our irresponsibility-laden world come crashing down in front of us. And I’m scared.

This little utopia possesses more than just an uncanny girl-to-guy ratio with a kick-ass view of the ocean; this place is an entirely different world. This is the world that we’ve come to love and accept over the last four – or more – years. I saw a glimpse of the real world last weekend, and it was creepy.

I went to see my good buddy Mike get hitched last weekend in Sacramento and, for the first time in quite some time, saw the domesticated world. I realized how this place radiates some sort of counterculture mantra that I’ve come to adore and am far too reluctant to let go of. At the aforementioned wedding, parents and friends alike asked me when I was going to tie the knot. Tie the knot? Fuck, I can’t even have a girlfriend, yet alone get married. This is aside from the cruel fact that I have no game in the real world, the world outside of Isla Vista world. Hell, my pops had to tie my tie for me. I’m not ready for the domesticated world.

Isla Vista has this uncanny ability to not only accept unorthodox behavior, but to encourage it. Let’s take this weekend for example. This afternoon I will likely be in the outfield of the Fullerton-Santa Barbara baseball game with my roommate, Adam, packing an 18-pack of Keystone Light and yelling things at opposing players that aren’t exactly fit for print. Where else is it encouraged to get tanked in the outfield and heckle dudes a couple of feet from you? And at the same time, have the benefit of such a close-knit community as Isla Vista? Here, I can turn to the aforementioned Adam after stud shortstop Chris Valaika hits a jack and be like, “That dude lived next door to me last year. I’m pretty sure some of my friends threw his couch into the ocean on my 21st last year.” (Sorry about that, by the way.)

I’m pretty sure that ain’t gonna happen in Sacramento. Not even in San Luis Obispo.

Where else are things like 50 Club and “nine before nine” perfectly acceptable? These feats are considered heroic around these parts, whereas elsewhere, such “accomplishments” would be downright silly. I think if I pulled off nine before nine at home, and I was sloppy drunk on the couch watching my “311 Day” DVD by the time my parents left for work, they wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.

Where else can you find somewhere that will actually pay you to write about alcoholic endeavors?

Where else is everything a bike ride away?

All I’m saying is that college – especially here – is an experience unlike any other. It’s a place where you can walk into a bar, see a co-worker, a classmate and a TA all in one sitting. It’s not the anonymous real world, where people go on these strange things called “dates,” and wake up before 10 a.m. Here, it’s kosher to stay up all night, play drunken baseball with oranges or make four-o’clock nacho runs a mere ten-minute walk away.

Something tells me I’m not the sole senior fearing the inevitable domestication process. So I sure as hell am going to take advantage of my last few weeks of accepted irresponsibility.

I hope you do too.

Daily Nexus Sports Editor Sean Swaby wishes Craig’s List posted ads for beer-tasting jobs… and wives.