EmBARking on the New World of Twenty-One-dom
It has been exactly 28 days since I've joined the world known as "21-dom." As a college student, drinking is not an activity set aside for the elite; however, the world of the bars is unique in all aspects. I never had a fake ID like many students I know, so my twenty-first birthday was definitely a new experience.
I heard so many stories of how people spend so much money on alcohol at the bars. As a female, this idea of paying for drinks was foreign to me. I was accustomed to guys handing drinks to me non-stop at fraternity parties (obviously for selfish reasons and not really for me to have an enjoyable time). Consequently, I was hesitant to believe that alcohol would soon equate to money. I had much to learn. My twenty-first birthday, however, was the one night where I wouldn't have to worry about paying a cent for a drink.
Walking into the bars was a huge feat. I showed my ID to the bouncer with pride. (I have always looked 5 years younger than I really am, so I thought that I'd feel a sense of accomplishment out of proving this man wrong that I in fact was of age). To my surprise, he barely looked twice at my license. He didn't even blacklight it. I was a little offended yet also satisfied. I have finally proven myself worthy of this new life.
It was a Sunday night--July 31, 2006--at Trident Grill and Bar. It was one of a few "popular" college bars that held power hours on a Sunday night (You can't go to O'Malleys or Maloney's at the strike of midnight on your birthday and Dirtbags is closed on Sunday nights). Because it was summer, the place was nowhere near a true portrayal of a bar at its best. I could count the amount of students there with both my hands. But it was my birthday and all I cared about was the group of friends who joined me there to see my night to shine.
Shot after shot I strived to meet the 21-shots-in-2-hours prize. My 5-foot-1-and-a-half-inch body couldn't really take that much. My guy friends decided to give me a taste of the real world. With the infamous Three Wise Men shot, I slyly and sophisticatedly walked to the bathroom. I knew this was not going to be a pretty sight. I did, however, make it to the toilet and walked out of the bathroom with a cool composure.
The bouncer walked up to me, less than a minute later, telling me that someone had heard me get sick in the bathoom so I would be forced to leave Trident that instant. I put my 7th grade acting skills to work and convinced the man that I merely had to use the bathoom. I'm not sure whether I was convincing or whether he just felt sorry for me, but he let us stay.
He regretted his decision a few minutes later.
I had a list of all the shots I had taken that night. After a while, my friends decided that they wouldn't tell me what the shot was until AFTER I had taken it. The 10th one came along and everyone watched me with scruitinizing eyes. The bartender gave me a lime and said I'd need it. I was scared. I held the shot glass in my hand, took the liquid down like a champ, then sucked the lime until there was no liquid left. Suddenly all I felt was a burning feeling in the back of my throat. Tabasco sauce was not my friend. I had just taken a Prairy Fire, which consisted solely of Tequilla and Tabasco sauce. Seeing as I didn't like Tabasco on food, this was a horrible idea looking back.
I could not control my body. I turned to all my friends, gave them the dirtiest look for letting me drink something that horrible, turned back towards the bar and started releasing all that was inside of me. I'm a very considerate person so my first thought was "Oh my gosh I'm going to make a mess at this bar." So I grab the only glass in front of me--the shot glass which had put me in this horrible situation--and aimed for that. As it overflowed I had no choice but to finish the activity on the ground. My group of friends witnessed the entire event. It was probably the funniest yet most humiliating moment of my life. I of course told the bartender that before they kicked me out I would clean the mess up, which I did a minute later.
The last thing I heard as I walked out of the bar was the bouncer saying underneath his breath, "I knew this would happen."
Yes, I finally had made my entrance into the world of paying for your own alcohol, of waiting in a massive line to get acknowledged by the master of the drinks, of being shoved left and right by a person wandering aimlessly through a crowd, and of being able to drink whenever you want just because you can. Finally, senior year has begun.
I heard so many stories of how people spend so much money on alcohol at the bars. As a female, this idea of paying for drinks was foreign to me. I was accustomed to guys handing drinks to me non-stop at fraternity parties (obviously for selfish reasons and not really for me to have an enjoyable time). Consequently, I was hesitant to believe that alcohol would soon equate to money. I had much to learn. My twenty-first birthday, however, was the one night where I wouldn't have to worry about paying a cent for a drink.
Walking into the bars was a huge feat. I showed my ID to the bouncer with pride. (I have always looked 5 years younger than I really am, so I thought that I'd feel a sense of accomplishment out of proving this man wrong that I in fact was of age). To my surprise, he barely looked twice at my license. He didn't even blacklight it. I was a little offended yet also satisfied. I have finally proven myself worthy of this new life.
It was a Sunday night--July 31, 2006--at Trident Grill and Bar. It was one of a few "popular" college bars that held power hours on a Sunday night (You can't go to O'Malleys or Maloney's at the strike of midnight on your birthday and Dirtbags is closed on Sunday nights). Because it was summer, the place was nowhere near a true portrayal of a bar at its best. I could count the amount of students there with both my hands. But it was my birthday and all I cared about was the group of friends who joined me there to see my night to shine.
Shot after shot I strived to meet the 21-shots-in-2-hours prize. My 5-foot-1-and-a-half-inch body couldn't really take that much. My guy friends decided to give me a taste of the real world. With the infamous Three Wise Men shot, I slyly and sophisticatedly walked to the bathroom. I knew this was not going to be a pretty sight. I did, however, make it to the toilet and walked out of the bathroom with a cool composure.
The bouncer walked up to me, less than a minute later, telling me that someone had heard me get sick in the bathoom so I would be forced to leave Trident that instant. I put my 7th grade acting skills to work and convinced the man that I merely had to use the bathoom. I'm not sure whether I was convincing or whether he just felt sorry for me, but he let us stay.
He regretted his decision a few minutes later.
I had a list of all the shots I had taken that night. After a while, my friends decided that they wouldn't tell me what the shot was until AFTER I had taken it. The 10th one came along and everyone watched me with scruitinizing eyes. The bartender gave me a lime and said I'd need it. I was scared. I held the shot glass in my hand, took the liquid down like a champ, then sucked the lime until there was no liquid left. Suddenly all I felt was a burning feeling in the back of my throat. Tabasco sauce was not my friend. I had just taken a Prairy Fire, which consisted solely of Tequilla and Tabasco sauce. Seeing as I didn't like Tabasco on food, this was a horrible idea looking back.
I could not control my body. I turned to all my friends, gave them the dirtiest look for letting me drink something that horrible, turned back towards the bar and started releasing all that was inside of me. I'm a very considerate person so my first thought was "Oh my gosh I'm going to make a mess at this bar." So I grab the only glass in front of me--the shot glass which had put me in this horrible situation--and aimed for that. As it overflowed I had no choice but to finish the activity on the ground. My group of friends witnessed the entire event. It was probably the funniest yet most humiliating moment of my life. I of course told the bartender that before they kicked me out I would clean the mess up, which I did a minute later.
The last thing I heard as I walked out of the bar was the bouncer saying underneath his breath, "I knew this would happen."
Yes, I finally had made my entrance into the world of paying for your own alcohol, of waiting in a massive line to get acknowledged by the master of the drinks, of being shoved left and right by a person wandering aimlessly through a crowd, and of being able to drink whenever you want just because you can. Finally, senior year has begun.
posted by Steph @ 1:26 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home