Glory Days

Posted: May 16, 2011 in Life
Tags: , , ,

My sister is turning 21 today, which is super exciting, but also unbelievable at the same time. I can still remember when she was just a little thing jumping in one of those Johnny Jump-Up things that you’d hang in the doorway–and I’d push her back and forth so she’d hit the door frame. Ahhh, the good ole days.

It got me thinking about my 21st birthday and how utterly ridiculous I was. I mean, I was utterly ridiculous both before and after that, but it’s almost like your 21st birthday gives you a free pass to Ridiculous Road. Even the cops may cut you some slack on your 21st if you’re not putting anyone else in danger. I know this from experience–let me explain.

My 21st birthday was on a Tuesday night and began at a restaurant that had 32 ounce Captain & Cokes for $2. Are you KIDDING me? So naturally I drank two of those, and some beer. Then we made the trek to Campustown where the real fun began. I remember being in the bar, and I remember leaving the bar after a Sambuca shot (my 13th and final of the night) was bought for me.

I stumbled down the stairs of the bar, across the street, and promptly proceeded to puke in a garbage can on a pretty major intersection. I still have photo evidence of me holding my OWN hair, because the three people I was with were busy taking turns standing behind me with their thumbs up, while they snapped pictures. I don’t blame them–how can you blame someone for something you barely remember? A cop walked up at some point and told my friends that they needed to move me along. They explained it was my 21st birthday and he laughed. He said he understood, but it was still a good way to get public intox. With my head still buried in the garbage can I said, “Okay!” I remember my voice echoing, which in spite of the situation, made me laugh.

From there I remember the morning. Yep. Fast forward 12 hours. Me asleep on my back, on top of the bed, legs dangling off the foot of the bed. An empty pizza box on the floor and my clothes neatly folded in the doorway to my room. No idea. Still to this day–absolutely NO idea what happened. I recounted the night with the friend who had dropped me off. He’d said we’d sat outside my apartment for a good 45 minutes because I thought I was going to puke again. Finally, he carried me up 3 flights of stairs, and set me down on my bed. He asked if I was okay, I made a gurgling sound that apparently made him think I was, and he left. No pizza on the floor, no clothes in the doorway–just silent prayers from all of us that the tip I gave the pizza guy that night only consisted of money!

So now, here I am 28 years old. Seven years after my own 21st birthday. I’m going to help my sister celebrate, but it’s highly doubtful I’ll be out past 10pm. You see, it’s seven years after my 21st, and I just can’t do it like I used to anymore. It ends up that when you enter the real world you can’t wear sweatpants to work and smelling like bar. It’s apparently frowned upon when you show up a half hour late with small twigs in your hair (don’t ask).

You know what though? Somewhere between the ages of 25 and 28, I became okay with not spending 20 hours a week in a bar. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy drinking every now and then–but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t drink like I did when I was 21. Or maybe it’s more along the lines of coming to terms with the fact that I actually CAN do it, but I’m going to be hungover for three days if I do.

I know that some of you are maybe in the same boat. And you’re torn, because it’s like on one hand you LOVED your glory days and you want to hang on, but on the other hand you have other obligations and responsibilities now. (Every time I hear the phrase ‘glory days’ I end up with the song in my head–so just in case that happens to you too, I’m putting the video below). Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean we have to ALWAYS act like it, but it needs to happen more often times than not. We can still be fun–it’s just not recommended to dance on a bar past the age of 21. I’ll even give you until 22 just in case you’re the oldest of your friends.

So go ahead. Go out and party like it’s 1999 again. Forget for a night that was 12 years ago. I’ll bet you $10 it comes rushing back to you when you wake up the next day–but you know what? It will have been worth it just to pretend like you can still hang with the big dogs. You used to run this town remember? And don’t you ever let them forget it!

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Comments
  1. wmarsau says:

    Oh yes. I remember my 21st. It was in the spring of 1999 and I threw up on the bar. lol

    • Dani Dyer says:

      I was totally one of those three people standing behind you with their thumbs up. Me and Neiman were smiling for the camera while Stephanie was waist deep in the trash can. Good times. 🙂 I still have to say the most vivid Glory Night had to have been you, me, Jason Mortvedt and Nichole trying to stumble home the bar. I think it took an extra hour because of how many times a certain someone kept falling down. Wonder who that could have been?

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