The Art of Being 21
Okay, some of you may or may not know that in the beginning of August I turned 21. This wasn't simply an act of being born in 1983. Oh no no no, it is a fine art. One that should be offered in major universities, such as Yale or Harvard. Because if you didn't know, up until this point in my life. I majored in being 21.
Majoring in being 21 isn't that hard. But for about a three years, that's what I did. I'd go to bars where I "knew someone" when I was in college in Philly. And Philly's a big city there's alot of people to know. Then when I moved back home, it was onto fun things like house parties, and drinking wine with Janine when we'd go to Dave Matthews Band concerts. Then something magical happened, I had a friend, of a friend, of a friend, make me a fake ID that said I was the oldest of all my friends. Isn't that hilarious. Me at 19 the oldest out of a group that ranged from 19-23. Then I was getting into clubs that were 21+. That was a great time in my major. You might even call that sophomore field experience.
Then something tragic happened. No, I wasn't put onto academic probation or anything horrible like that. I was an ACE at my major, but I lost my fake ID. One night, at a gay club in Philly. (Don't ask, it was part of my diversity requirement), my cherished fake ID went missing. And I haven't seen it since. I had to do alot of make up work for this major slip-up. So since I was home indefinitely, I started to "know people" in and around the central Jersey club scene, aka my lab partner, Lauren. We started to go to all the clubs, Abyss, Joey's, and finally, Sleep. We "knew" alot of people there, and believe me did that help to enhance our experiments in chemistry class. You add two 20 year old girls with a 21+ club, and it would equal trouble. So things go down, I get kicked out of class. It stinks, but hey you gotta beg and plead with the Dean to get back in.
Finally, the realization is that you can't really major in being 21 without getting into a little bit of trouble, whether it's the throwing up at 2 o'clock in the morning, or the bad bad bad decisions you make once you're 6 sheets to the wind.
Now, I have graduated. I AM 21. No more sneaking into the bathroom to get a sip of my friend's drink. I slam my hand down on the bar and order a round of shots for myself, the bartender, and whoever is in the 5 foot vicinity of me. I can make an ass out of myself in public, while looking really cool. I can buy liquor for all my underage friends and then reminisce about the times when I had my older friends do it. I can tip too much and then remember why it is I set a limit on the amount of money I spend at the bar. I can insist to myself and others that at 5:15am after I passed out on the bathroom floor that I am in fact okay, and that I will be going to work in the morning. I'll go to a bar to watch a football game and I don't even like football. I specialize in shots, and when it comes down to it. When I'm 22, I'm going to miss being 21. Because no one EVER majors in being 22.
Pretty much it's all downhill from here.
Majoring in being 21 isn't that hard. But for about a three years, that's what I did. I'd go to bars where I "knew someone" when I was in college in Philly. And Philly's a big city there's alot of people to know. Then when I moved back home, it was onto fun things like house parties, and drinking wine with Janine when we'd go to Dave Matthews Band concerts. Then something magical happened, I had a friend, of a friend, of a friend, make me a fake ID that said I was the oldest of all my friends. Isn't that hilarious. Me at 19 the oldest out of a group that ranged from 19-23. Then I was getting into clubs that were 21+. That was a great time in my major. You might even call that sophomore field experience.
Then something tragic happened. No, I wasn't put onto academic probation or anything horrible like that. I was an ACE at my major, but I lost my fake ID. One night, at a gay club in Philly. (Don't ask, it was part of my diversity requirement), my cherished fake ID went missing. And I haven't seen it since. I had to do alot of make up work for this major slip-up. So since I was home indefinitely, I started to "know people" in and around the central Jersey club scene, aka my lab partner, Lauren. We started to go to all the clubs, Abyss, Joey's, and finally, Sleep. We "knew" alot of people there, and believe me did that help to enhance our experiments in chemistry class. You add two 20 year old girls with a 21+ club, and it would equal trouble. So things go down, I get kicked out of class. It stinks, but hey you gotta beg and plead with the Dean to get back in.
Finally, the realization is that you can't really major in being 21 without getting into a little bit of trouble, whether it's the throwing up at 2 o'clock in the morning, or the bad bad bad decisions you make once you're 6 sheets to the wind.
Now, I have graduated. I AM 21. No more sneaking into the bathroom to get a sip of my friend's drink. I slam my hand down on the bar and order a round of shots for myself, the bartender, and whoever is in the 5 foot vicinity of me. I can make an ass out of myself in public, while looking really cool. I can buy liquor for all my underage friends and then reminisce about the times when I had my older friends do it. I can tip too much and then remember why it is I set a limit on the amount of money I spend at the bar. I can insist to myself and others that at 5:15am after I passed out on the bathroom floor that I am in fact okay, and that I will be going to work in the morning. I'll go to a bar to watch a football game and I don't even like football. I specialize in shots, and when it comes down to it. When I'm 22, I'm going to miss being 21. Because no one EVER majors in being 22.
Pretty much it's all downhill from here.
posted by Allison at 1:22 AM
1 Comments:
hey shaddup! ain't nothing wrong with being 22! i'm be 23 this coming NOVEMBER!! =P you stink!
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