Dewormed but Not De-Squirmed
In attempt to kick coffee, Poodle explores Floatopia, Tea Party and finds self at sea lost
ONE IF BY LAND, TWO IF BY SEA: Where is the Tea Party when you really need it? Last weekend, Santa Barbara witnessed the rawest display of preemptive government police power ever with nary a squeak from anyone, let alone those ever-outraged contrarians favoring three-cornered hats. For one full day, a sizable stretch of the public’s beach — better known to Californians as “coastal access” — was declared totally off-limits to anyone and everyone in Isla Vista.
Fifty-nine gun-toting — and I presume muscle-bound — Sheriff’s deputies were deployed — and no doubt paid overtime — to enforce this edict. The imminent threat to public health and safety from which these stalwart deputies were protecting us was this year’s Floatopia, a drunken me-too bacchanalia in which thousands of college-aged individuals engage in self-destructive behavior that kills brain cells, celebrates the onset of spring, and culls the herd.
As one quasi-organizer, dressed like the Mad Hatter, informed me, the event allows Isla Vista residents and young people everywhere “to appreciate our natural habitat.” Last year, 12,000 showed up and expressed this appreciation by treating the beach like one giant toilet bowl. Not only did they leave the seat up, but they forgot to flush. Not so nice. In the process, some bottles got thrown, some heads cracked, feet cut, and a few inebriates — less than alert to life’s obvious perils — tumbled down the bluffs. Maybe a dozen were transported to Goleta Valley, where they were treated for stupidity.
