Dave McConnell (MSB ’17), a junior intern at the United States Central Intelligence Agency, has repeatedly been asked to leave parties after insisting on telling every attendee that he holds a “license to chill.”

“It’s not like I was going to use it,” McConnell said while pointing a finger-gun upwards. “I was just trying to have a good time.”

McConnell’s behavior has slowly worsened over the semester. After being granted the internship, McConnell would inform one or two party-attendees that he “had a very particular set of skills.” This eventually led to McConnell shouting, “The things I do for my country!” before each shot. Then, in late November, he discovered the phrase “license to chill.”

“It was mind-blowing,” McConnell recalls. “Everyone knows there’s a license to kill – but a license to chill? That’s so fuckin’ hilarious and laid back. Instant popularity.”

Initially, McConnell would get a simple laugh and shrug. However, that would change at a Running Club Party in late January. McConnell entered around 11 pm and began introducing himself to other party-goers.

“He seemed friendly,” Jenna Borden (COL ‘17). “But then he did his ‘license to chill’ thing which I’d seen at a few other parties. He started doing it, everywhere, to everyone. I had never seen such a fervid advocate of one’s own laid-backedness. It was off-putting.”

Reports state that, after leaving the Running Club party, McConnell burst into six living rooms, twelve bedrooms, and an impressive forty-eight freshman dorm rooms to deliver his personal tagline.

“We had to ask him to leave,” said Derek Cho (NHS ‘18), resident of Harbin 342. “He burst into my room where a few friends and I were sitting around talking, barely a party I guess… and he kicked down the door, asked all of us to get on the floor, and began to mock-arrest us. He said he was doing so on provision from his license to chill.”

“I’m pretty sure he just wanted to say that line,” Cho acknowledged.

That was hardly the last time McConnell was asked to leave a party that night following the verbal presentation of his license. Of the sixty-six venues McConnell visited, he was asked to leave an estimated sixty five parties, giving him a roughly 0.026 success rate. However, this has not lowered McConnell’s spirits.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of rough,” McConnell reflected from his quiet dorm as he pulled a legally notarized License to Chill commissioned by the State Department out of his pocket. “But let’s try to see them deny this.”