Boys Will Be Boys, Until They’re Drunk

It’s long past the point where it’s enough to say “boys will be boys.”

That’s what we used to say when our young colts spray-painted a fence or hot-wired a car and went for a joy ride. Or threw a couple punches in a fight.

If that’s all that was happening out there in the real world, we probably could live with it.

That’s not what’s happening, though.

Instead, we’re seeing too many kids getting busted up pretty badly. In the much-publicized 1998 “Slick 50s” case, a partying teenager in Aliso Viejo was cracked over the head with a beer bottle and stabbed.

At a Laguna Hills party last Christmas, a teenager was beaten so badly his assailants broke his nose and cheekbone and cracked his teeth. A teenage girl threw herself on him to prevent further violence.

Last month in Mission Viejo, a 14-year-old wound up in an ambulance after being pushed down the stairs at a party.

But if “boys will be boys” sounds increasingly lame, so does it sound increasingly foolish to hear parents say they’d rather have their teenage children drink at home than somewhere else. Especially when the parents aren’t even home when their kids are drinking.

Put the two together and you get what’s happened too many times: out-of-control teen parties that lead to violence.

Boys have fought for as long as there have been boys. What’s altered the scene is the proliferation of the megaparty, where a couple hundred kids show up at a house with no adult supervision.

Most kids don’t need supervision at parties. But when the liquor flows, things can change.

After the Laguna Hills incident, the Orange County Sheriff’s Department began patrolling the party scene in that town.

A Wake-Up Call

Laguna Hills Councilman Joel Lautenschleger coordinated a meeting between deputies and parents and says, “A lot of people got educated real quick after the incident in December. Not only did the patrol help, but parents got educated that, ‘Oh, my gosh, this is happening in our community, and we better be more responsible.’ ”

Lautenschleger doesn’t know if the violence level has increased in recent years. The problem, he says, is that drunken teens at unsupervised parties where dozens of people show up, invited or otherwise, is a caldron for potential violence.

“What bothered me the most,” Lautenschleger says, “is the outside people coming in. Apparently there are elements from around here who hear about parties and go there just to look for trouble, basically.”

The Mission Viejo incident freaked out some of the teens who were there, because the 14-year-old at the bottom of the stairs was unconscious. Police said the boy’s intoxication probably contributed more to his unconsciousness, however, than his fall did. Still, the fall stemmed from a fight, and there was no parental supervision.

Stan Jacquot, chief of police services in Laguna Hills, says the violence and lack of supervision are two sides of the same coin.

He thinks the level of violence has increased, perhaps the result of teens having seen innumerable fights on TV or movies where victims get hit over the head with a table or a beer bottle and then get up and walk away.

Beyond that, Jacquot says, an unspoken code of fighting has changed. “It used to be you didn’t hit someone in the back or kick them when they were down,” he says. “Now it’s almost like when someone is knocked down, the first thing you do is kick them.”

That said, Jacquot agrees with the other city officials I talked to who said parents have got to wake up and smell the coffee at weekend beer bashes.

“It’s the access to alcohol and the nonsupervision that easily escalates to violence,” Lautenschleger says.

If parents are that out of touch, it makes you wonder why we expect any more from teens.

Until clueless parents and drunken teens get their acts together, they shouldn’t complain when sheriff’s deputies show up unannounced.

Offhand, I can only think of one thing that cools the party mood faster than the sight of a sheriff’s squad car: the sight of a battered teen, writhing on the ground and hoping someone will call an ambulance.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.