As I walked the halls last Friday before Hawaiian Night, something happened that brought the investigative reporter inside of me to life: I smelled alcohol on someone’s breath!

I really was not sure how to process it. Under MnSCU Board Policy 5.18, “the distribution, possession and use of alcohol on campus or at off-campus events at state universities is strictly prohibited.” That means there is not any alcohol on campus. So how, I wondered, did I smell alcohol on the breath of the guy I passed late Friday night in the hallway?

As a dedicated reporter, I devoted my Hawaiian Night to figuring the alcohol mystery out.

I awoke early Saturday morning to get ready for the day. I grabbed the essential tools of journalism: my pen, notebook, sound recorder, stylish leather jacket, and a flashlight in case any alcohol was hiding in some dark places.

I began my investigation by entering the student center, intent on finding the source of the mysterious booze epidemic. Was a water fountain mistakenly hooked up the beer tap at Pappy’s? Was it leaking through a hole in the wall or ceiling, leaving a small, alcoholic pond that students gathered around to get intoxicated? Was there a mysterious, all powerful alcohol dealer ON CAMPUS?

Sadly, my investigation, where I yelled, “Are you carrying any prohibited alcohol on you? Do you know where to find some?” at all passersby yielded no tangible results. I decided to check the science buildings, since alcohol is a scientific compound.

I stealthily snuck through the completely empty hallways of the Science and Math building. Where could the alcohol be? I decided to try a lab room.

I walked into the lab and immediately saw some vials. I walked over and saw them all labeled in order of their pH levels. Could this be the alcohol I was looking for? Sadly, there was not one labeled “pH 7.33,” the pH level of alcohol. All the research I had done the previous night still was not able to find me the hidden giggle juice on campus!

A thought came to my mind as I left the lab. The thought terrified me, but journalism is all about seeking the truth and reporting it, so I had to press on. What if a professor was the secret hooch dealer?!

I entered the first science professor’s office I could find, and my investigation was right! Inside their cabinets, I found a whole bar—Isopropyl alcohol, rubbing alcohol, even a sample of pure ethanol! I shook in my boots thinking how the professors may be the ones getting the campus turnt.

Just as I thought it could not get any worse, a student was walking by outside the office, and I heard her backpack making a distinct clinking sound. Was it more of the hard stuff? Was there a supply chain of tummy buster coming from the teachers to students? I ran out of the office and stalked the student back to the dorms, where I planned to ambush her.

Once the unsuspecting student was about to enter Sweetland Hall, I jumped out at her, putting my high powered flashlight right in her face.

“Is that alcohol in your bag? Are you the bootlegger?” I asked rather dramatically, because boy oh boy, does journalism get me excited.

“Are you public safety?” The student asked, stunned from me jumping out of the garbage can. “Just because my bag rattles, you think it’s alcohol? No, it’s, uh, my dishes! I had to wash them at, uhm, work. Because work has a dishwasher.”

No alcohol there. I let the poor girl go and enjoy the rest of her sober day. Clearly I had failed in my investigation thus far. I migrated over to the on-campus apartments in hope of finding evidence of the liquor’s supply chain.

I paced the halls of the apartments hoping for a clue. Once I reached the second floor, I heard something odd. Loud music busting through the wall, clinking of glass, the word “chug” being repeated endlessly. Could it be… a party?

I knocked aggressively on the door, thinking I was about to have my breakthrough.

“Who was that?” A voice said on the other side of the door as the music was turned down and the light on the other side of the peephole shifted.

“Shit, dude, he looks like an RA.” Another voice said. “Hide all the booze!”

I heard what sounded like lots of footsteps and clinking glass and running water before the door was opened. That must have been a very intense board game they were playing. Or maybe they were cooking.

“Suh bro?” an older student wearing a lei said to me.

“Is there any alcohol in here? I’m on a quest to find where it’s coming from!” I replied.

“None here,” the student said, opening the door.

I looked at the scene — an odd liquid spilled on the counter. Lots of orange juice in bottles. It sure is a good thing they are getting their vitamin C. There was also a guy sleeping on the floor, but no alcohol.

“I thought I heard someone say ‘hide the booze’ when I knocked.” I said.

“Uhhh, I actually said hide the…snooze. Yeah, hide the snooze, that’s it. Don’t want to wake him!” a girl inside the room said to me, pointing to the student sleeping on the floor.

Another bust. I thanked the students for their time and wished them good luck in whatever the heck they were doing. It was 10 P.M. on Hawaiian night and my investigation yielded no results. I hadn’t found a drop of alcohol within possession of the student body. I guess I was wrong about the alcohol supply chain, and my earlier suspicions about smelling booze was just me being overly concerned It looks like the dry campus policy is 100% effective after all.