The Editor’s Soapbox — an annual tradition of having the incoming editor in chief writing a self-indulgent column no one reads — usually goes like

Grade Inflation Hurts Everyone

A voluntary program at 39 Los Angeles high schools now allows students who improve their scores on the California Standards Test to qualify for higher grades in their classes.

There’s a golden rule when it comes to getting free stuff — the less people know about it, the more fun it is to get it and, of course, the greater the feeling of accomplishment. (That’s why the free pizza at that little-publicized engineering fair is always more exciting than the college council events offering free soda.) So, the ideal free situation is to find a popular store and be “in the know” about getting free stuff (code words included) before everyone else.

Using this logic, events like Ben and Jerry’s “Free Cone Day” on April 12 or IHOP’s “Free Pancake Day” on March 1, are the ultimate antithesis of this golden rule. Broadcast far and wide, publicized with Facebook events that have six-digit numbers of people attending, these free days always bring in hordes of hungry weirdos (myself included), and thus, the best and worst of humanity.

The worst of the worst is always Chipotle’s Free Burrito Day on Halloween. They stopped this tradition in 2010, but a couple of years back, every Chipotle on Oct. 31 had a line curling around the block. Drunk, high and hungry college students waited for hours for a free burrito — the majority of them covered in aluminum foil of varying strips and sizes. The thought of braving hours of standing behind some drunken frat bro dressed like a burrito with a beer belly killed my appetite, and I walked away without even trying. Sometimes, you have to pick your battles.

The best things in life are free, so when I get coerced into spending money, I am irate. IHOP’s Free Pancake Day seemed innocuous enough at first — my friend and I were seated almost immediately. But their free pancake day only involved a short stack, and being the hungry Americans that we were, we didn’t just want three measly pancakes for brunch. We wanted sides — more specifically, bacon. With the extra side orders, our “cheap” meal ended up costing $14 plus tip. Let that be a warning to you: Be vigilant when partaking in these “free days” — your empty stomach might hoodwink you.

But sometimes it’s worth it. On paper, Ben and Jerry’s Free Cone Day sounded like a miserable waiting game — thankfully, I was wrong. I assumed the tiny stand outside the UTC food court could hardly handle the masses of eager ice cream fans demanding their fix of Cherry Garcia and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. But when my friends and I arrived, the line was a pleasantly short five-minute wait. And even though my favorite flavor wasn’t offered (seriously, try Imagine Whirled Peace; it will change your entire perspective on life), their equally sublime Milk & Cookies flavor was, so I was stoked.

The free ice cream was great, but the moment that made my day was when a woman with three kids pulled out her wallet to pay for her family’s ice cream. Clearly, she had missed the enormous “Free Cone Day” sign that dominated the better part of the stand. When the man behind the counter told her that there was no charge, she looked stunned, smiled and cautiously walked away. Never underestimate the power of free to make someone’s day that much better.

By now, it’s hopefully safe to say that I survived Judgment Day 2011. It isn’t much of a shock: the Book of Wikipedia clearly outlines the history of Apocalypse predictions, which far predates minister Harold Camping’s own $100-million premonition (and, somewhat remarkably, the 92-year-old minister himself). Camping wasn’t the first to cry “rapture!” — an abridged history includes a Baptist minister proclaiming the end in 1844 and a “Korean group” calling it in 1992. Sir Isaac Newton’s still holding out for 2060.

I’m not one of the untold thousands who prepared for the worst on Saturday. Some maxed out credit cards to embark on the cross-country road trip they’d long put off; others, like New York City transit worker Robert Fitzpatrick, depleted over $100,000 in savings to help spread Camping’s word. I didn’t even bother to set my iPhone to Britney Spears’s “Till the World Ends.”

All the billboards on the I-5 advertising Judgment Day (many of which boast a gold seal that reads: “The Bible Guarantees It”!) did, however, get me thinking about what I might do were the end actually imminent. Would I head north to say a final goodbye to my family in the Bay Area? The option’s probably the most honorable. Like a solider heading to battle, I could kiss my baby siblings a tearful goodbye and tell my mother to be brave for me — we’d be better off on the other side. (Or she would: I might tip at Starbucks and help the occasional old lady with her groceries, but I can’t claim innocence of some of the kookier parts of Leviticus. Whoever authored that bit about shellfish probably never had a lobster burrito.)

But Camping, before going into hiding on the big day, was adamant that 6 p.m. local time would mark the end everywhere, and there’s never any telling how long it might take to get through L.A. I wouldn’t want to chance traffic on the drive north: The thought of meeting my maker at the Kettleman City Jack in the Box isn’t my idea of a graceful way out; I wouldn’t consider curly fries and a diet coke the last supper of dreams, either.

So home’s out. And there may be a handful of cameraphone worthy natural sights in San Diego, but no slice of coastline — no matter how calm the breeze or memory-searing the public nudity — has really colored my time here as much as a handful of rabblerousing coeds in the second-grimiest corner of the Old Student Center. They’re the ones who have initiated a thousand spontaneous dance parties and as many 2 a.m. burrito runs, and who, rapture or not, I won’t be seeing much of after this quarter. Given the circumstances, I can’t imagine a happier ending than dancing ‘til the world ends with them. (And if, as Newton predicted, I’ve got another five decades of bad pop and good company ahead of me, I’m not complaining, either.)

Free Speech Rightfully Curtailed

The American Civil Liberties Union is accusing La Jolla High School officials of violating the California Education Code’s free speech policy by removing student-painted messages that were supportive of the Iranian anti-government movement — but it was completely within the school’s jurisdiction to do so.