Do you:

A.) Blow all your cash on one drink at the swankiest club in town.
B.) Scour campus for a party and drink for free
C.) Stock up on cheap, flavored, and surprisingly strong cans of malt liquor.

I’m pretty sure everyone chose the last choice, and even though our little midterm isn’t graded, that answer is decidedly wrong. Four Loko is a popular new canned alcoholic beverage. Essentially an alcohol-fueled energy drink. Each can contains the equivalent of three beers, caffeine, and artificial flavoring, all for under $3. But the benefits of this cheapie drink are eclipsed by the serious threat it poses to students who intend to party hard.

Recently 23 Ramapo College students were hospitalized due to intoxication in just a few weeks – many of these incidents involved Four Loko. Currently, the president of the North Jersey school is banning this and similar beverages, and urging the leaders of other schools to do the same. We’ve all heard the warnings about cocktails like Red Bull and vodkas – the alcohol brings you down while the caffeine heightens your senses, confusing the body and making it difficult to determine just how intoxicated you are.

Four Loko is even more dangerous, as it’s fruity flavors make it easy to drink multiple cans quickly. In fact, the dangers of Four Loko are so severe that the drink is being dubbed “liquid cocaine.” The combined affects of alcohol and caffeine are even more frightening when you consider that both are diuretics, which can cause dehydration.

The possible consequences of drinks like these are undeniable: students can face hospitalization, injury, or overdose as a result of the seemingly harmless alcoholic energy drinks. Whether or not your campus chooses to ban these, we urge you to be as cautious as possible when it comes to drinking Four Loko. Or, play it safe and go for a $3 40 instead. It’s way more fun to drink out of a bag anyway….

10. Last Call- 3:30 AM.
This means you have plenty of time to dance on bars. If time is money, then take that money and spend it on shots of Patron.

9. The boys are BANGIN’
Is there anything hotter than an NYC boy? From the Columbia law students (hi, yum, slamshows) to the prepster Upper East Siders (hi, Chuck Bass), the city has a gaggle of gorgeous gentlemen. Beware of guidos.

8. SHOPPING.
Sample Sales, Saks and SHOES SHOES & MORE SHOES. Aughhhh! I want it all!

7. Celebs, celebs, celebs!
Okay, so every day after work I walk past Rockefeller Center, desperately looking for Alec Baldwin. Come out wherever you are, Jack Donaghy!

6. Slamming Nightlife
The hot, trendy bars (like the one we’ll be partying at); more clubs than you can think of; bars with crazy themes… there’s something for everyone in this here city.

5. Yummy foods
Magnolia, Serendipity, Dylan’s Candy Bar, Crumbs… and that’s just dessert! 24/7 diners for all your drunk munchie needs and New York pizza? Need I say more?

4. The Sports
Kidding. Screw the Yankees, most overrated team ever. Not to mention the travesty that is the Mets. But, both the new stadiums are worth checking out. Particularly if they’re playing the Cleveland Indians.

3. Central Park
In the middle of the craziest city that never sleeps, you have one of the most peaceful, beautiful parks around. Did I mention all the DOGGIES everywhere?! AHHHHH so cute!

2. The Culture
The MoMa has free entry on Fridays from 4-8, not to mention the Met, Lincoln Center, Guggenheim… After coming to NYC, you’ll practically be an art historian.

1. It’s just the freaking best city in the world.
I mean, really. NYC is what it’s all about. The coolest little Island that packs a punch. Sex and the City, Seinfeld, SNL, David Letterman, How I Met Your Mother, Friends and now Conan all agree: New York City rocks.

Melanie currently interning in NYC, taking full advantage of all margarita specials and those blonde summer boys. Stalk her on Twitter: @tinkermellie

We’ve all been there: that rowdy Friday/Saturday/Tuesday night when the liquor bottles come out and the shots glasses clink. All those nights we’d like to forget and we hope no one else remembers either. All the shots that didn’t go down too well – or missed our mouths completely.

But, lo and behold, the next morning we discover these little beauties lingering on our Facebook wall for the world to see.

Welcome to The Post-Shot Picture. The picture you didn’t realize was being taken because you were too busy keeping the vomit down. The pictures that makes you wonder why you’d ever accept a shot (let alone insist on them night after night) as you clearly do not enjoy them. The pictures that totally make all of us laugh…when we aren’t the ones being photographed.

Need a good LOL? Here you go:

Honestly, does anyone really like these things?

Is it true though? Or are the tabloids just running exaggerated fantasies to harpoon mass appeal? It’s hard to know because these grandiose lifestyles are perpetuated by the attention drawn to them (unless the celebrity is actually talented). Case in point — the Kardashian sex tape.

Bad publicity is good publicity, I suppose… especially for the venues that become associated with celebrity attendance (who doesn’t want to go to places where you might see a rockstar in a bar fight or catch Paris Hilton stripping down to… well… a slightly more naked version of her usual self?).

When talking about club publicity, nothing turns up the temp on a particular venue more than the drug habits of the celebrities. The scandalous behaviors of one Miss Britney Spears has made headlines for a variety of clubs in New York including an all time personal favorite, Marquee. Yes, she has been caught using drugs in the public bathrooms all around town and she’s not the only one. The question then becomes, of course, how many drugs are being done in these places? Certainly you run a high risk (pun intended) of being caught abusing drugs if you are a celebrity, but what about us ordinary folk? Are drugs swimming through the clubs as the tabloids would have us believe?

The answer is YES. I would never consider myself a drug abuser, but I know first hand that almost every club I have been to has it’s own underground microcosmic drug scene. Club Stereo was closed last year after several cocaine busts, though this came as no shock as Stereo was known for being “pot friendly” and leaving the club was like opening the Scoobie Doo van (smoke pouring out). Tenjune turns the other cheek when it comes to smoking the reefer in the VIP section and won’t ask why there are so many girls leaving the bathroom with runny noses. The real shocker comes from Le Souk where I witnessed some special k being snorted in the wide open.

I have also witnessed people getting arrested. Again, Club Stereo, you win in this department with flying colors. On two — no three occasions I witnessed drug raids there, but in the end, drug use was far far more frequent than the arrests that were made. This can probably be said true for almost any club and can be said especially true for celebrities. Amongst my celebrity encounters few involved sobriety (or much respect for, I dunno… THE LAW). Indeed, the Studio 54 mentality lives on in places like Bungalow 8 (where you might just order “a rum and coke.. hold the rum”).

These scenes are often under the radar of the public because of tight security. It’s nearly impossible to get in unless you know someone, ARE a celebrity or (at the very least) have your very own assistant. Places rarely have to answer to the law because undercover cops simply do not fit the demographic of these super-dooper (more like super-doper) high-end venues.

This doesn’t mean that the celebrity lives we read about aren’t embellished to perfection, but it certainly adds validity to the stories. The truth of the matter is, we aren’t living lives so separate from those we read about and if anything can be learned from the tabloids, it’s two things: 1) where the drugs are 2) where people get caught doing them.

It’s a question that often goes unanswered and maybe that’s for the best because the only clues you have are rather discerning (ie. waking up in someone elses’ pants or finding a tattoo of betty boop on your ankle or perhaps finding that you have a plane ticket to miami mysteriously scheduled for the following weekend). This past weekend I would discover that these are not exaggerated tales attempting to glorify a night of reckless drinking… they are (and I am living proof) ridiculous truths.

Like so many other New York hot spots, “Pink Elephant” is surrounded by velvet ropes, bouncers that answer to “Gus”, disco balls, teensy girls in teensy skirts, drugs, overpriced drinks and that guy who had one-too-many performing a very public (and very unsolicited) strip show. I came here with some friends and we got in, having mistaken it for another club called “Mansion”… but this was one mistake I would not regret.

The music was not exactly the type that puts me in a jovial booty-shaking trance, where my dancing skills take on a life of their own. Rather, the music was more Euro-style with some Madonna splashed here and there.

Usually, if the music isn’t my type, I’ll be bored… or worse, lose my rhythm and send my arm accidentally sailing into the nose of some cute guy behind me.

Fortunately, this place was filled with so many beautiful people, that I was amused by aesthetics alone. Within minutes, some adorable Polish guy was handing me and my friend glasses of champagne. We danced. We laughed. We drank. It was a grand old time.

But the real glimpse into the highlife came the next morning as I was sipping on my venti cappuccino at my computer. Waiting for me in my inbox was an email from a certain Polish stallion. And what was in that email? A prepaid roundtrip ticket to Miami for the weekend (and a hotel room for my very own self!). How quickly I came to regard my hangover like a damn sweet souvenir from Pink Elephant’s luminous bar.

Alright, so you’re not guaranteed a free vacation when you go to uber-chic clubs like Pink Elephant, but what you are guaranteed is a greater likelihood for meeting someone really rich and really Polish. Cheers!

Indeed, any of these possibilities could result in the ultimate goal… drinking, having fun and laughing your pants off (literally and figuratively, but hopefully not at the same time).

Unless you are in “the scene” or “know people” or have a third boob, it’s not always easy to get past the doormen and into the places that you heard Ashton Kutcher hit up last weekend…But I’m here to tell you that “the scene” is not all its cracked up to be and it’s nearly impossible to keep up with because the lifespan of a trendy bar or club has a suspiciously similar longevity to that of a botox injection… coincidence? I THINK NOT! The socialites of New York dare not become “regulars” anywhere… except in the chair of the best surgeon in town.

If, however, you are so compelled to risk a dehumanizing rejection at the velvet ropes of say, Tenjune… I would do the following… (where there’s a will, there’s a way..)

1. Throw a couple names at the doorman like “I’m here with Scooter’s party” or “Is Terrick working tonight?”

2. No guys in your group.

3. Don’t over-sell your posse. Skirts always help, but too much sexiness and/or polyester seems desperate and cheap.

4. Pay the doorman.

5. Make friends with the people standing outside the club (not immediately outside the entrance… in fact, no less than half a block away) on their cell phones looking like they are waiting for people. These are oftentimes promoters. So go flirt. Bat your lashes. Ask for a light. Do your thing, but you’d be lucky to get more than two or three girlfriends in this way.

In the end, don’t expect too much excitement you won’t get from any other place in Manhattan. My experience at clubs like Tenjune are not remarkable. It is a matter of absolute certainty that you will come home with a decent cranberry juice stain to forever remind you of how malnourishment is not good for the ol’ balance (beware of the clusters of models; they’ll destroy your outfit every time).

So I will leave you with this piece of advice… be your OWN scene. Check out the bar that is so endearingly uncool; where hot dogs go to die and the jukebox always knows when to play “Sweet Caroline”… click your heels together Dorothy Gale style, cause the scene you seek has been with you all along.

Since I knew no one in Dublin and had never been there before, my Time Out: Dublin guidebook was my new bible. It had several pages of maps and a pretty extensive listing of shops, bars and places to eat. As I learned my way around the city (sort of) and tried to fill up my empty days (I came almost a week before registration, so I couldn’t even use the campus computer labs or the library), I discovered a few discrepancies between my guidebook and my own personal experiences. I’ve summed up a few of them, for your enjoyment:

My Guidebook says: Temple Bar, a neighborhood in Dublin, is the city’s cultural center. Here you’ll find edgy shops, bars, cafes, galleries and theatres. At night, Temple Bar is an exciting nexus of Dublin nightlife with loads of music venues and pubs on every corner.

My reality says: Temple Bar thinks it is the cultural center of Dublin because it has an independent movie theatre and a bookshop (which will close down soon). When we say “edgy”, we mean there are a bunch of wannabe punks hanging around skateboarding. At night, Temple Bar becomes a hellish place full of drunk “stag” and “hen” parties (bachelor and bachelorette parties) whose members stumble around screaming, while wearing matching outfits. Watch out for broken glass and vomit on the sidewalks. Oh, and those authentic pubs on each corner? Packed full with drunk tourists. Avoid at all costs.

My Guidebook says: Grafton Street is Dublin’s high street, a long pedestrian walkway perfect for strolling and shopping.

My reality says: Grafton street is inexplicably packed with people all day every day, and you will often find yourself shoving old ladies out of the way to get where you’re going. At night, watch out for broken glass and vomit.

My Guidebook says: O’Neill’s pub is a great place to grab a pint or catch a “trad” music session. Stop in during the day for a carvery lunch.

My reality says: Cafeteria-style hot bar during the day (just as bad as your high school cafeteria), overcrowded tourist trap at night. A “traditional” Irish pub all cleaned up for the tourists. Pints are overpriced.

My Guidebook says: The Dublin Bus system is quite confusing—you’re better off walking around the small city center.

My reality says: The Dublin Bus system is quite confusing—you’re better off walking around the small city center. (At least they got one thing right!)

While guidebooks are a great jumping-off point, you’ll never really know until you go! The best thing I did was ask a friend who had visited the city before for her recommendations—that’s how I found my favorite lunch spot, for example. If you are studying abroad, you have to remember that your status as “tourist” will eventually fade—soon you’ll need to figure out where to buy groceries and shampoo and extra sheets.

Since guidebooks almost never provide that kind of info, ask a local!