Male '12:
So basically my first encounter with H-Po was back in October. I had just come back from Heorot, and I was just being an idiot and was holding a Keystone can.
"Oh, I'm not gonna get caught by H-Po, I can just, like, move the can to the other side of my body, and they'll never be able to see it," I thought to myself at the time.
The girl I was with wanted me to walk her back to her dorm, so we were on this corner of indecision: She wanted to go home, and I wanted to go to EBAs. We were taking a while to decide, and I kind of forgot that I had a Keystone in my hand. And the street corner in front of the Dirt Cowboy is the worst place you could possibly be holding a Keystone. The police car rolled up, and it was only 10 or 15 feet away by the time I saw it pull around the corner. The officer immediately came over to me, grabbed the beer can, threw it away, and put me in the back of his car.
I was arrested. At this point, I was definitely drunk, like eight beers deep. I was in the cop car and shaking from fear as the officer asked me questions. But I'm the kind of person who really sobers up fast.
At the station, he was asking me questions, and, somehow, I knew exactly how much money was in my wallet, and so he was like, "Oh, that's legit." He had me do sobriety tests, and I passed, so he didn't make me do a breathalyzer test. I still got in trouble for unlawful possession of alcohol or whatever, and had to go to Alcohol Diversion Program. It's actually the only accomplishment I have hanging in my room right now.
Female '11
My friend had a lingerie-themed birthday party in our dorm's common room and most people showed up in their boxers or bras. It was great until someone saw an S&S officer walking toward the room and everyone but three of us scattered. We quickly hid our bottles behind the microwave but couldn't do anything to cover up our themed "clothing" -- I was in a fishnet bodysuit, another girl in a revealing corset and the birthday girl in matching bra and panties, stockings and stilettos. The S&S officer awkwardly walked in and tried to ask us a few questions but soon gave up and left. If it had been a female officer, things might have gone differently. Instead, he wished my friend a happy birthday and added, "Enjoy the party."
I'm sure he saw the bottles behind the microwave, but what could he do? He didn't know how to reprimand three half-naked girls without feeling very, very wrong.
As a young, nubile freshman, I didn't quite know the rules of a Good Sam. I thought it was basically an insurance policy for any student who got too drunk and thought they needed medical help. I didn't know that after getting Good Sammed, you could get in trouble if it happened again, and that you would have to pay a large fee for staying in a little cot at Dick's House with a nurse watching over you for the night.
One night I got home, sufficiently plastered, and began booting in my bathroom. One of my roommates asked if he should call in a Good Sam for me, and, since I didn't realize all of the annoying repercussions, I said "yes."
S&S came, but I don't remember much of anything else until I woke up in Dick's House around 8 a.m. At this point, I realized I had a take-home test for my Chinese class due in four hours which I hadn't started, so after not seeing any nurses in the general vicinity, I left Dick's House and walked back to my dorm.
About ten minutes later, an S&S officer came knocking at my door and told me that I wasn't allowed to leave Dick's House without permission. I may have assumed this at the time, but I didn't know until they came to drag me back. They wouldn't let me leave until my BAC dropped below a certain level, and I missed my take-home test deadline by about three hours. Luckily, Dick's House did have a computer -- one of those funny-looking Macs that they used to have in my elementary school computer lab -- and I used it to inform my teacher that I was violently ill and would be turning the test in a little bit late.
The worst part was that since I left Dick's House without permission, I got some sort of college discipline warning, so if I were to get Good Sammed or in trouble again, I'll probably be Parkhursted.
Female '11
Making out in the rain is hot -- but not if you're making out in the rain in front of the spotlights on the lawn of Dartmouth Hall on the Friday of a big weekend. I hadn't realized this yet by Homecoming my freshman year, so I was taken completely by surprise when, after a less-than-graceful attempt at getting up from the ground, two S&S officers approached my accomplice and me to see if the "sexual activity" had been "consensual." I had a hard time figuring out what would constitute non-consensual making out, but we both assured the officers that we had been enjoying ourselves. When the S&S officers expressed their concern that, when under the influence, we tend to lose our ability to exercise good judgment, I responded with a reassuring, "Don't worry -- I'm not drunk enough to have sex." To my surprise, the officers weren't convinced, and they gave me two choices -- let them walk me back to my dorm in McLaughlin, or face the consequences of an official S&S pick-up. I chose the former, and never looked back.
Female '10
One night during my freshman summer, around 2 a.m., I was pretty sober and playing a bit of pong when my townie friend and I started talking about streaking. Well I've already streaked the Green, Baker-Berry, Frat Row, frat basements, you get the idea, when suddenly we remember -- THE LEDYARD CHALLENGE. So we prance on down to Ledyard and leave our clothes on the dock. It was practically a plan with no flaws: We swam across the river and snuck our way up to the bridge. I'd say we were about three quarters of the way across when these lovely little headlights started heading our direction. Suddenly there I was, standing stark-naked with my townie friend staring straight at not one, not two but three Safety and Security officers. I couldn't remember if streaking was legal on the Vermont or the New Hampshire side of the bridge, and I didn't quite know how I was going to get out of this one.
I tried to be very nice and refer to them as "officer," when I asked if they wouldn't mind turning around while I put my clothing back on. They agreed that it would probably be a good idea and my friend and I started walking back down the road to the boathouse, our path illuminated by three cars' headlights.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"Umm ... run!" I replied.
And we bolted -- up through the woods to the River cluster, completely naked.
The night ended with us knocking on some windows in the River and finding out that it was being used as summer housing for graduate students. We got one guy to give us two fairly large t-shirts with which to cover ourselves and then darted back and forth between bushes -- literally diving every time we saw a car's headlights -- until we got back to my house.
I thought I got off clean, when, a month later, I got an e-mail from my dean.
"Could you please come to my office to discuss the events that transpired on the night of ...?" the e-mail said.
I never went to see my dean and about a week later, I received a notice that I was on probation for two terms. I'm still really curious how those officers found out it was me. Every time I walk past one, I think to myself, "Have you seen me naked? Were you the one that recognized me while I was naked?"
