An epidemic has struck our campus. Sky-coning is on the rise in the dining hall. 

For those who don’t yet know, sky-coning refers to the practice of sneaking an ice cream cone onto the upper floor of the student union and dropping it onto a table in the dining hall. During the past two weeks, there has been a spate of attacks. To my knowledge, at least five sky-cones were dropped into Saga in the space of a single week. 

To be clear, there were only a handful of students actively dropping cones. Most students do not think that ice cream was made to be a projectile. But this is a problem we all need to address.

To those who have been sky-coning – you need to stop. I realize you may consider yourselves to be carrying on a glorious dorm war or some such nonsense, but you really ought to know that there’s nothing honorable at all about sky-coning, even as a prank against another dorm. 

You accept no risks, and therefore, you win no glory. Far be it from me to preach against dorm wars, but if you’re going to prank other dorms, at least put some pizzazz into it. 

If you need inspiration, look up the MIT-Caltech prank rivalry: their shenanigans make sky-coning look simply pitiful. For instance, MIT drove cross-country from Boston, Massachusetts to Pasadena, California to steal a 1.7 ton, 130 year-old cannon. If you feel compelled to bother other residences, at least be more creative: dorm warfare via ice cream cones is hackneyed and ignoble in addition to being inconsiderate, wasteful, and unkind. 

Even if it’s not a part of a dorm war, the concept of sky-coning might seem hilarious on its own. Just imagine: you’re sitting at lunch some day, and a soft-serve cone comes hurtling through the air and splatters all over the table. I don’t deny that its sheer absurdity might be funny at first.

But please keep a few things in mind the next time you pick up an ice cream with the intent of sky-coning a table downstairs. First, you’re not the one responsible for cleaning up the mess afterward, which means you are seriously inconveniencing the Metz staff and the other diners downstairs. Do you know how long it takes to clean up a fallen sky-cone? 

Chris, a Metz employee, said it can take up to 10 minutes to clean up one sky-cone, more if it is on the carpet. During the busy times of lunch and dinner, this is quite inconsiderate for everyone downstairs. 

Each time you throw an ice cream, you are actively wasting not simply the ice cream, but also the time and energy of Metz employees. This is extremely frustrating for them – sky-coning is ingratitude of the basest sort. Don’t make life burdensome for them; after all, they are working hard to serve you and your fellow students.

Speaking of your fellow students, I hate to remind sky-coners that ice cream aim is nearly never spot-on. The risk of sky-cone collateral damage is high, and many of your fellow students who may get hit don’t have time to go back to their dorms and change between lunch and their next class. You could seriously ruin someone’s day. 

In theory, it might be acceptable to sky-cone a table full of your friends, whom you are sure will be OK with it. But because inconsistency and error are part of the human condition, you are too likely to accidentally splatter innocent diners who will not appreciate your practical joking. For the sake of those diners, quit sky-coning. 

Finally, remember you are called to self-governance because you’ve signed the Honor Code. Self-governance implies, or at least calls us to have, a modicum of responsibility and maturity. 

Food fights are for grade-school cafeterias, not college dining halls. Is chucking ice cream at other students — and possibly faculty or donors — really a shining example of self-control and moderation? Is slinging soft-serve honorable in deed or respectful of the rights of others? It doesn’t take an Aristotle to figure out the telos of an ice cream cone.

I implore you, students of Hillsdale, don’t sky-cone, and don’t encourage the practice. Dining with fellow students is a privilege. Instead of interrupting others with ill-conceived and unimaginative pranks, let them enjoy their meals. Being a public nuisance isn’t glorious or funny. It’s rude and asinine. 

Strive to show nobility in your lunchtime interactions and maybe even your dorm pranks. You have the opportunity to pursue excellence in how you live your daily life. What you do with your ice cream matters. 

Don’t be cold-hearted. It’s not cool to cream your comrades.

Zachary Chen is a freshman studying the liberal arts.