There’s a lot I’m going to miss about College Park. I’m going to miss the utter pandemonium of Route 1 on a Friday night. I’m going to miss the quirky professors. I’m going to miss the tireless leaders who have dedicated their lives to this city, such as university President Wallace Loh and “The Cuddler.”  

But more than anything else, I’m going to miss the drunk bus.

The drunk bus — to put it in terms a communication major might understand — is the greatest shit ever. It’s a circus on wheels, a grand carnival of drinking, puking, laughing and singing. And that’s just the bus driver.

When I need to get from point “a” to point “b” — when I need a reliable form of late-night transportation — I simply call a taxi. But when I want to see the best of what college has to offer, I take the drunk bus.

After four years, I definitely have some interesting stories to share. I’ve seen it all, man. I’ve seen an unruly kid try to fight the bus driver. I’ve seen a guy puke on his ladyfriend’s lap and then kiss her. I’ve seen a group of frat dudes sing Vanessa Carlton’s “White Houses” like it was going out of style. I’ve seen two girls make out. I’ve seen a girl with a ukulele sing “Hakuna Matata.” That was the best night of my life.

I’ve seen the pathetic and I’ve seen the poetic. Last year, I saw a young couple fighting relentlessly with one another, their angry shouts filling the bus. So I put my hand on the girl’s shoulder and asked — my voice trembling with empathy — if she was going to drink that unopened beer I saw in her purse. She said “no” and handed it to me. It was awesome.

Like most things pure and innocent, the drunk bus has its share of haters. Many of the bus drivers, for instance, don’t seem to like it. A few years ago, I was riding on the Purple Line bus, singing songs and smoking cigarettes with the future leaders of the United States, when the bus driver completely flipped out. She actually stopped the bus, got on the intercom and said, “You guys need to shut the hell up! It’s like Lord of the Flies in here!” As I listened to her impassioned speech, my eyes welled up with tears and I realized something: I should totally bring a conch shell on the bus sometime.  

But even the haters can’t bring the drunk bus down. It’s funded by our student fees, which means that we can basically do whatever we want on it — basically. Now, I’m not saying it’s OK to act like animals and blatantly disrespect the bus driver. In fact, I think we should institute a few basic rules that would make the experience a lot better for everybody, such as no bus drivers allowed.

The drunk bus gets a bad rap, even though it shouldn’t. It’s a magical part of college, and I’m going to miss it.

Mike Sanders is a senior history major. He can be reached at sanders at umdbk dot com.