I woke up in my own bed once in a span of four days. I wish I could tell you I was out raising my likelihood of contracting sexually transmitted diseases, but in all honesty I wasn’t. Where was I? Face up on my couch with little to no recollection of how I got there. I don’t blame my own self-destructive tendencies, however. I blame the great town of Isla Vista, and its goddamn house parties.

I blame Isla Vista solely as the perpetrator of stealing my dignity and comfort because at my ripe age of 22, I can no longer revel in all its glory without pushing my blood to its alcohol containing limits. The nights are long gone where I could walk to I.V. from FT, crash a party of a bunch of unexpecting seniors that I don’t know, and steal their booze until the cops break the party up or until me and the other thirsty Freshman tap the keg dry.

Today I just don’t have the spirit. The drunken spirit has been sucked out of me from years of debauchery on the same streets. I feel like an old fogey, and I know others do too. I see seniors all the time walking on Del Playa, who say “I haven’t cruised DP in ages,” as if they are recalling an episode far distant in the past, when it was probably less than three weeks ago that they realized they didn’t have shit to do, heard of a party through a friend of a guy who slept with a girl who knows a guy who lives in the garage of the house, and found themselves walking down the lonely road of debauchery known as DP.

I don’t blame the age though, Seniors. Yeah that’s right you’re still spry, you’re still hip, your hairline isn’t receding that badly yet. It’s hard for us to stay sober and enjoy the beauty of I.V. because we have just seen one of the finer things in life: the beauty of Downtown.

Downtown simply owns Isla Vista like Kobe Bryant has owned the Sacramento Kings his entire career. Yeah, I said it. Yeah, it is more expensive than taking handle pulls of Taaka on DP, and yes, Bill’s Bus is probably the shittiest excuse for a motor vehicle that anyone has driven in since the Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile.

But, quite honestly, the money and the dirty bus are more than worth it. In fact, Bill’s Bus is half the fun for me. If you are lucky and don’t sit in piss first off, you might actually sit next to a good looking person of the opposite sex, you might actually have a meaningful conversation and get your hookup out of the way early.

Secondly, the price of drinks are really not that bad if you know where to go. Nobody starts off at any of the clubs and if you do, your night will probably be far more expensive than it has to be. Go to one of the crappy dive bars on the strip, assert yourself at the crowded bars and double fist your $2 well drinks of your choice. All in all, it is far cleaner, safer and more legit than drinking vodka and RC cola, which goes together about as well as oil and water.

Downtown, the women are hotter, they actually wear dresses, people are more civil and won’t get pissed when you dump a cranberry vodka on their chest (I know from experience) and the dancing and music is a shit ton better than your friend’s shitty play list of TI and T-Pain, randomly jumbled with Techno. And if you’re into a hunt, you’ll see more cougars at Eos on one Saturday night than in multiple viewings of the Jungle Book.

Basically, I know half of you that read this article are not old enough to go DT anyway, and hate all of your friends that can and do go on a regular basis, while you are resigned to your couch or a meaningless game of beer pong. I’m not telling you to stop hating, I am telling you to be more jealous of them and that you will do a complete 180 when you are allowed to realize the absolute sickness that is DT. Two years goes by faster than you think, so enjoy the I.V. house parties while you can and don’t let anybody tell you different. This is your town.

To all of the Downtown haters out there that can go but choose not to, I tell you this: the only reason why you probably like I.V. better is because you are either broke, cheap or have problems talking to girls who are wearing dresses. To all of those who agree with me, I’ll be seeing you at Tonic, bitches.