My 21st birthday went about as you would expect it to, no one, including myself, was surprised with the way things turned out. My old buddies from high-school came back into town for the festivities, and we had assembled a merry bunch by that Friday night. We started out in my friend's garage, a place that took us all back to the days of drinking Smirnoff Ice and acting drunk because we needed to look cool. But this time, I was force fed Jagermeister, the drink of every winning team! After some awkward knee bend dancing and more shots we were ready to go to the bar. When I say the bar, I mean THE BAR in my town. We show up, the youngest and most attractive people there by far, and I start getting shots of whiskey placed in front of me. So, of course, I drank them ("I ain't no queer!"). At some point the night gets hazy for me, and the rest of what I'm going to tell you was reported to me the next day by my accomplices:
-I told the bartender that I loved him and that we were going to be best friends from then on.
-I made sure to emphasize the fact that the other people in the bar were "really, really sad looking" to my friends, who made sure to tell me that everyone in the place could hear me insulting them.
-I saw a poster for an upcoming stand-up comedian, demanded to see the owner of the bar, and screamed in his face "I'm funnier than that mother fucker! I'm hilarious, hire me!"
-I had to be helped out of the bar by my newfound friend the bartender, got into the front seat of my friend's car and subsequently threw up something described as "gravy" out the window all over the side of her vehicle. This apparently took place in front of a 24 hour burger place and I got some applause from the other customers inside.
-I rode home with the upper half of my body hanging out of the car's window, occasionally making sounds that did not resemble any known language.
-I threw up in my back yard, tried to get a bottle of water from my garage and fell into some of my dad's tools, told my friends that no, they were not welcome to any of MY water, and then left a note for my parents on the kitchen that read: "Throw Up In Yard. Love"
-I then spent the next 2 hours shaking and sweating in my underwear on my bathroom floor, occasionally dry heaving while my two friends who had stayed with me decided it would be worth getting my laptop and putting me on Chat Roulette for a while.
The next morning I woke in my bed acting as little spoon for one of my male friends and felt like I'd just had a stroke. I spent the majority of the day on the couch watching the Simpsons and fighting off my dog who wanted to kiss my mouth.
But I had to summon a form of superhuman strength from the depths of my spirit, because we were all going to Nashville that night for round 2.
We checked into our hotel and had a few beers, a few shots, and then went to get Mexican food and margaritas. We caught a cab downtown and searched out a promising bar. We chose a fine establishment on 2nd Ave that looked like it would be in a scene from one of the Blade movies, people obviously out to drown their sorrows in neon colored shooters and dance the night away with people who looked like they wanted to hurt you, real bad. Perfect for us! We ended up on the roof, having drinks and admiring the bums interacting down by the river ("Look a hobo farm!"). At some point we went to the karaoke room and two of our party proceeded to perform a rendition of "Baby Got Back" that included about half the lyrics spoken in monotone and the rest just shouting obscenities into the microphone, one of which included pointing at me and announcing "He's got a big ding-dong!". We saw security gathering at the back of the room and decided it'd be a good time to get some fresh air. And fresh air we got, on our hour and a half walk to the strip club we'd seen on the cab ride from the hotel. The place was, apparently, BYOB so we stopped at a gas station and purchased a few 40's of Olde English. The strip club was... well, a strip club. We got my youngest friend his first lap dance, the white protestant's bar mitzvah. I got acquainted with some of the strippers outside in the smoking area while we weighed the pro's and con's of breast augmentation, and the merits of stripping over going to school. We also bumped into a kid we'd all known in high-school, talk about a coincidence, and we all had a good laugh together when one of the minority strippers fell off the stage and got a drink spilled all over her by one of the bouncers while he tried to catch her. At that point, we headed back to the hotel, about $80 poorer myself.
Along the way we:
-threw rocks at a Charles Schwab Investment firm for "ruining the economy".
-almost got thrown out of a Q'doba for drinking the hot sauce.
-gave serious consideration to what it would take to burn down Vanderbilt University.
-stole a road cone.
By the time we got back to the room it was time for wrestling, which, as it usually does, ended with someone getting hurt and all of us smoking cigarettes on the balcony as the sun came up. After a heated argument about who was going to have to sleep in the bed with our friend who is notorious for pissing himself when drunk, I decided to man up and take one for the team.
The next morning we enjoyed a nice brunch at the McDonald's across the street and then it was time to hit the old dusty trail back home.
And that's the story of how I became an adult. Until next time:
Keep those nips frosty.
