It’s 10 p.m., and you’re in Ames, so I know where you are. Actually, I can’t make that moderately amazing claim. I can, however, tell where you aren’t, and that’s actively participating in the Ames night life. Why can I make this claim? Because the Ames night life is similar to the Holy Grail. No matter how hard you look, you’re unlikely to find it.

Ames is a 10 p.m. town, and except for the bars which we’re allowed to frequent until 2 a.m., there are virtually no businesses to patronize after that time. Even the most beloved bastion of the late-night binge, Taco Bell, won’t be found open much after 10 in Ames. Am I missing something? Even Bellevue, Neb., hardly a college town in its own right, has a Taco Bell open until 2 a.m. That’s in a town where there’s a 10 p.m. curfew for teenagers. Somehow they’re staying in business, and yet Ames businesses are unable to afford to staff such hours?

I remember when I first visited my brother at college at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. The first night I was there, we made a 2 a.m. journey to Subway in downtown Lincoln. Why? Well, it was open. That’s something that can’t be said for most places in Ames, except a handful of grocery stores, Copyworks, Wal-Mart and Donutland. After the bars close, there’s nothing to do. For that matter, there’s not much to do even while they’re open.

Meanwhile, groups like the Iowa Alcoholic Beverage Commission wants to put an end to all-you-can-drink specials, blaming them for a large part of our collective binge-drinking problem. I blame something entirely different: boredom.

Say what you will about binge drinking, but the best way to end it is to distract people from the possibility. When all there is to do is drink yourself into a stupor or go to bed, the choice is going to be an easy one if you’re a social butterfly. When Friday night rolls around and all Ames can offer is grocery shopping or a handful of movies that run until midnight, it makes a lot more sense to join streams of people staggering up and down Welch Avenue.

Granted, it’s not the only reason people drink. Other reasons include, in no particular order, because today is Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and so on. The lack of options just emphasizes the importance of intoxicating beverages in student social life.

I won’t claim that college is a necessarily stress-inducing activity. For most students, drinking is just a release from the unbearable pressure of getting too many hours of sleep the day before. But the pain of living in the least collegiate of all college towns doesn’t help.

Campustown itself is boring. You can drink, you can eat, but the essentials of under-21 college entertainment aren’t there. There’s no place to rent movies, buy music or just loiter while feeling cool. Furthermore, for those students not living in the Union Drive Association or the greek houses, the trek to Welch Avenue is one that requires either driving or a huge commitment to drinking. Too many people in Ames will choose the former without considering the consequences, creating a brand new problem.

Ames entrepreneurs, here’s a tip. Business can’t be transacted when you’re not open, at least not legally. If you’re worried about having too many drunks storming your business like the French to the Bastille, don’t worry. In fact, rejoice. Drunk students have huge appetites and are a good deal less concerned about spending their money. The Ames police department does an excellent job of protecting businesses and drivers from the mass of intoxicated students that hit the streets shortly after closing time.

The day is 24 hours long, but in Ames, it runs from 9 or 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. Meanwhile, most of its student residents are operating much longer hours. By closing their doors at night, businesses only hurt themselves – and my liver.

Ames may, as it claims on its Web site, have “something for everyone,” provided you define “something” as “very little” and “everyone” as “not students.” But when your entertainment and dining options are dwarfed by the city of Bellevue, Neb., you have little to brag about.

Tim Kearns is a senior in political science from Bellevue, Neb.