Raise your hand if you wish you could go back to being 21.
I can’t see you, but I would assume a few of my dedicated readers have their hands raised, maybe even both hands raised. Who doesn’t wish they could go back to being 21; a simpler, more care-free time in their lives?
But the real question is – do you wish you could celebrate turning 21 again?
100% no. Hands down. Never again. I would never wish that night upon anyone, especially those who lived through it the first time.
It was truly a night to forget. I honestly, I feel hungover just thinking about that night.
It all started in a small college town where the age of 21 didn’t stop us from drinking at the local bar or at various frat parties every night. My birthday happened to fall on a Saturday (lucky me!), so my brother and best friend flew down for the weekend. We planned to have a party on Friday night at our house and then celebrate my actual birthday at my sorority formal. A perfect weekend to turn 21!!
Since I still wasn’t legally allowed to buy the keg for the party, my brother and BFF did the honors and got me the keg for my birthday present. Oh so generous of them…
They went to the bar to purchase it, and asked for the standard options for the party. Not that simple – no Bud, no Coors, no Busch, no Natty, not even Milwaukee’s Best ( / worst) were available. The only choices were Blue Moon and Icehouse. Blue Moon is great for a sunny afternoon, but nobody wants that for a party. Neither of them had ever heard of Icehouse, but when the bartender offered to throw in two free Bud Light t-shirts, they were sold.
Back at the ranch, we set up for the party, ordered some pizzas and tapped the keg. The beer tasted a bit skunked, but we were all poor college kids with no room to be snobby so we didn’t complain. Well…. after 2 beers I was starting to feel it a bit, and wondered when I had suddenly become such a lightweight.
I had friends from various aspects of my life come to celebrate – the sorority girls, study abroad friends, high school friends, and the football team. Many of the players were in my classes and I was flattered that they came to celebrate. I was particularly happy to see one of the football guys at the party and decided that he would be my birthday kiss. Little did I realize (or care about) that our kitchen had a cut-out wall connecting it with our living room, and the birthday kiss wasn’t as private as I thought. The whole party, including my brother, got to witness this (lol).
Nothing scandalous happened because I was asleep 5 minutes later, in my bed, alone at 10:30pm. That’s right, an hour and a half before turning 21, I was passed out, still wearing my birthday dress. Icehouse got the best of me.
The next morning, I wake up in my party dress and I am finally 21!! I see purple streamers everywhere, and friends passed out in various locations around the house, included but not limited to: my bedroom floor, living room couch, laundry room, wooden bench outside of the laundry room, and front lawn. Sign of a successful birthday.
After everyone has woken up and we stomach what little food we can, we head to the liquor store, it’s time for me to make my first purchase!
And then I’m denied. Flat out denied from the liquor store on my 21st birthday. To be fair, I was still in last night’s party dress and wearing a Vineyard Vines whale foam hat, but now I had a valid ID! The woman told me I was a liability to sell alcohol to, as I was clearly intoxicated from the night before. I think this is the first time in history someone has gotten denied on his or her 21st birthday. I’d say it was the lowest point in my 21 years, to date.
The whole rest of the day was a struggle. The handle of Captain Morgan broke in the driveway, penne vodka was spilled all over our fridge, and my new football player boyfriend hadn’t texted me to say happy birthday.
It wasn’t until we were still hungover at the sorority formal that we found out that Icehouse is about double the alcohol content of a regular beer. We had been fooled! The night was essentially doubled: two beers was really four, four really eight, but somehow my makeout ratio still stayed at one.
My inability to hang at my party must have scared off my new boyfriend, and we went along with the rest of our college days as just friends. Thanks to Snapchat, I see that he has clearly moved on, as he now has a three year-old son. Yet I am still feeling just as I did when I turned 21… hungover after 2 beers and without a boyfriend.