OCSL and SNAP stuck in logistical and ideological snafu

Life on the Village A rooftops last year was a good time. Every weekend, the parties made the week worth wading through. I figured it was only going to get better when my friends and I decided to move into an off-campus townhouse for our senior year. Unfortunately, that is not exactly what happened.
In reality, leaving campus doesn’t actually mean you’re free from Big Brother’s scrutiny. In fact, you’ll find yourself under constant scrutiny from Off Campus Student Living and, of course, an array of fun-phobic locals. I guess that would be fine, if OCSL also helped students out. I mean, that’s what they said their reason for existence was during their mandatory Off Campus orientation sessions, right? Wrong. Even their most basic services, like providing students with new trash cans when theirs are stolen, have been noticeably anemic since the year began.
If OCSL is going to continue playing party-police and doing little else, the least they could do is change their mission statement. “The Off Campus Student Life office addresses the needs and concerns of off-campus students,” their mission statement reads. Really? From what I have seen, the statement should really read, “OCSL addresses the needs and concerns of disgruntled neighbors, and cheats students.” If they were honest, we’d at least know what we could and couldn’t expect from them—which does not include basic services they claim to provide. On the 3300 block of Prospect Street, in the first month of school, six trash cans magically disappeared. Calling OCSL made a grand total of two reappear.
Trash cans may seem like a stupid thing to harp on, but trust me when I say that West Georgetown residents care more about beautifying their historical neighborhood than the most anal museum janitor. But apparently, OCSL cares less about containing trash (and rats) than it does about curtailing your fun.
Say you want to buy a couple bottles of wine and host a soirée, or grill some burgers with a couple sleeveless bros. You’d better hope that your neighbors have their hearing aids turned off when Lil Wayne starts blasting from your boom box.  Otherwise, the Student Neighborhood Assistance Program will be rolling through the neighborhood and bring OCSL right to your door in no time. Last year’s rooftop festivities actually gave me some hope that Georgetown’s social scene might limp on after the University implemented a stifling alcohol policy in 2007, but what I have seen since then has convinced me that it will need some help to survive.
It may be hard to imagine, but once upon a time Georgetown actually lived up to its “work hard, play hard” reputation. Right now, it seems more accurate to describe its mentality as “work hard, play as hard as possible until SNAP or the Department of Public Safety breaks up your party.” The alcohol policy instated in the summer of 2007 introduced party registration, the one keg limit, and harsher punishments for student misconduct.
Many of my friends who were upperclassmen at the time regarded that as dagger in the back of fun on campus. Unfortunately, I never got to experience the “good old days,” I merely watched as the off-campus social scene expanded to make up for the losses—until OCSL made a habit of bursting our party bubbles. It was like sharks swarming to the scene of a shipwreck—not pretty.
Earlier I mentioned the irony of OCSL’s mission statement. They actually go further and claim that “OCSL serves as a liaison between the University and our neighbors, encouraging dialogue about issues of mutual concern.” Perhaps there is dialogue somewhere up there in the bureaucratic clouds, where students seldom venture, but I haven’t heard of any. At least SNAP is more transparent in their mission statement, which partially makes up for their ridiculous pseudo-official patrol cars. Theirs reads, “SNAP is a service provided by the University to respond to our neighbors’ concerns about student conduct off-campus.”
For the benefit of students and Georgetown residents, the OCSL and SNAP need to clarify their roles. And one more thing, get the hell off my porch!