To Get Most Out of Pomona, Run Naked
By Peter Douglas
Opinions Writer

Sophomore year has been kind of a letdown so far. My workload has increased exponentially, I've started using words like "exponentially," and I no longer have any time for playing darts or bocce-frisbee in my hall, two of my favorite activities last year. Instead I spend eight hours in Seaver South every day, then emerge at two in the morning, bleary-eyed and pale, like some cave-creature, which is fitting since I'm a geology major. I've even begun doing homework on Friday afternoons, something I promised I would never, ever do. My weekends have been violated and I will never be the same. Most disappointing of all, though, is the fact that in a year and two months at Pomona I have never streaked across campus.

When I was a young lad, I always associated college with nudity. My father would tell me wonderful stories of mass streaking at the small southern college he attended. There was even a picture of one of these events in his senior yearbook, and not a single private part was blacked out. My mother would tell me how she skinny-dipped in the faculty pool at Stanford, and interrupted random classes with her gang of kazoo-playing hooligans. (That doesn't really involve nakedness, but it sounds like a damn good time.) As I got older and wiser, I began to have my own streaking experiences. I began by mooning innocent motorists from the school bus on the way to cross-country meets, but things soon progressed. On my last day as a high school junior, two of my friends, at the last bell, ran out of the bathrooms completely naked, down the hall, out the door, and into the parking lot where a get-away vehicle was waiting. Not to be outdone, soon after that I jumped out of a moving van and ran for nearly a mile on the Pearl Street mall in Boulder, not a stitch of clothing on my body, as onlookers cheered and gawked. I will always have fond (and fuzzy) memories of that night.

I saw these experiences as only a small taste of the amazing naked experiences I would have once I reached college. I debated not even packing clothes when I came to Pomona, but decided to bring a few just in case. It's a good thing I did, because the naked scene is not a happening one at Pomona College. I have yet to see another naked body at Pomona, with the one exception of my suitemate, who doesn't believe in wearing a towel when getting out of the shower. I have heard about mysterious "nothing-but-challa" rituals practiced during Passover, but as far as I am concerned this is just a myth.

It's also true that Pomona students have no problem taking it all off on trips into the wilderness, especially OA trips. (I've got pictures, if anyone is interested.) Perhaps being in the woods makes it easier for people to get back to their natural state. Yet Pomona would be a much better place if we were able to capture that raw wild energy and bring it back to campus. Admit it: wouldn't your academic and social life be much improved if you saw a naked person running past your window a couple of times a day? Of course it would.

Now I realize that I am being a hypocrite here. If I were truly interested in spreading the gospel of nudity, I would have stripped down and gone crazy a long time ago. To date, the only nude activity I have pursued at Pomona is the occasional skinny-dip at Pendleton pool. By some strange luck, the only times I didn't get caught breaking in were the times I was wearing clothes. The truth is I'm a sucker for peer pressure. Put me in group of naked people and I'll proudly display what God gave me, but if I'm a solitary nude, I'll start blushing like a schoolgirl (or schoolboy, as the case may be). Substance use can also help a lot. Streaking, however, is not about the individual. It is about the idea, the masses revolting against restrictive clothing and societal norms, the people joining their bodies in an act of solidarity. Streaking across Marston Quad by myself I'm a laughingstock; with fifty other people we're a movement.

But forgetting all that political crap, the best reason to streak while you're at Pomona is that it's your last chance. Once you enter the real world the consequences of streaking can be heavy. You could lose your job, your dignity, or even get a ticket for something called "indecent exposure." Here you'll just get cheers, maybe a phone number or two, and, only if things go very wrong, a J-Board hearing (to which, for a really good time, you should show up naked). It may not seem important now, but when you're forty and nothing makes sense anymore, you'll feel a lot better about your life if you let loose and got naked in college. It might just stop you from quitting your job, leaving your family, and heading off to Alaska to herd musk oxen. Of course that might be kind of fun.

My point is that a lot of people at Pomona, myself included, work way too hard. We need a release, and when Frisbee, bridge, or repetitive CCLA parties just won't cut it, maybe taking off our clothes and going out in public might do the trick. So next time you have a chance, get sloshed and naked and run screaming through the halls of Seaver South. Or just get sloshed. Or just have a good time, for God's sake. But don't be too loud; I've got work to do.