Around April 1 you start to hear the question surfacing. “What are you doing for Veishea?”

It used to be that the answer was about the same for everyone. In fact, there didn’t used to be a need for a question. Veishea was a fairly static event.

A little parade, a cheesy play and some drunken tomfoolery on Welch Avenue; that was pretty much it.

In the last three years, however, event organizers have tried to hammer out a new image for Veishea. Gestapo scare tactics have been offset with big — and not so big — name entertainment. The event has gone dry, whatever that means, and the drunken-in-the-streets aspect of the event has almost completely diminished.

As a result of all the new regulations, Veishea has become something completely different. Whether the event is better or worse than it was three years ago is a matter of personal preference.

In the last few years, the Veishea committee has brought in big name entertainment, which they hadn’t done for awhile. Using a little dough to bring in a major concert event at a low ticket price is definitely something students have appreciated.

On the other hand, some of us old enough to remember Veisheas past miss the Mardi Gras atmosphere that used to exist. There was a fun, festival atmosphere, and the rule seemed to be if you could stand up and weren’t hassling anyone, you were OK.

One of the most amusing developments in the last few years has been the large mobs of predominantly freshman dorm kids chanting “Fuck dry Veishea!”

Yeah, you tell ’em!

I hope no one misses the irony of a bunch of underage kids complaining about no longer being able to drink at an event they never attended in the first place.

Still, at the heart of any raving, ignorant mob is a message. These all-American youths feel that they’ve been cheated out of something from Veishea. They’re not sure what it is, but they’re sure it exists.

The feeling is not isolated to the young, either. At the first Rock Veishea, the crowd filed in very tentatively and sat down, almost in a daze. We looked around at each other as if to say, “Well, I guess this is Veishea.”

I have that feeling every year. Last year, I found myself wandering over to Welch Avenue with a couple of friends on Saturday night. In essence, I suppose we were looking for Veishea. It was damn cold, and aside from a half-dozen people mingling around the “Taste of Veishea” stage, it was just another night at the bar. Nothing wrong with that, but I guess we expected there to be something more.

I’ve lived in Ames since I was 8, and there was always a certain excitement associated with Veishea. My parents always frowned on us having anything to do with the evening reverie. Actually, replace frowned on with strictly forbade. Still, there was always an excitement in knowing that Veishea was going on.

It used to be that for one weekend out of the year, Ames was truly the place to be. ISU students could proudly host friends from across the Midwest, because we had it goin’ on.

Nobody disputes how popular Veishea used to be, but ISU administrators and some members of the Ames community felt that Ames was the place to be for all the wrong reasons. They did have a point. People weren’t saying, “Let’s go to Ames and appreciate what ISU has to offer.” They were saying, “Let’s go to Ames, get crazy drunk and commit some civil disobedience.”

No matter how you looked at things before, what’s become of Veishea is downright pathetic.

This year, “Dew the Rec” and “Rock Veishea” have failed to produce the big names they have in the past. I’m not making any quality judgments, but all I hear is “Black Eyed who?”

Veishea 2000 is feeling a lot like an old dog, and I think it’s time to shoot it. Veishea has never been as good as it was cracked up to be, but the quality level has gone so low it’s practically an embarrassment.

Veishea is like the annual family reunion. Everyone is still doing it, and acting like it’s a good time, but nobody’s very enthusiastic about what’s going on.

Let’s just let it die, already.

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Ben Godar is a senior in sociology from Ames. He is assistant arts & entertainment editor of the Daily.