21st birthday ends an era of illegality
Joe Larson
The Principles of Idiocracy
Happy Birthday, baby — to me.
Correct. Today is, in fact, my birthday. Whoopee.
First of all, my own open declaration of my own birthday is not meant to garner a thousand wishes of "Happy Birthday, Joe" or gifts or surprise parties.
Second of all I'll be arriving home from class at about six tonight and you can look up my address and telephone number. Thanks in advance for all your cheerful birthday tidings.
OK, glad to have gotten that out of the way. Now, why would a person writing for the Viewpoint portion of The Observer shamelessly call attention to an occasion as frivolous as his birthday like this? To prove a point, of course. (After all, this is not Scene, this is Viewpoint. Someone might read it.)
This year's birthday is different from years past. It is the end-all, be-all, party until you throw up, act like a cretin, be a rock star bash of all bashes. It is the illustrious 21st birthday we are talking about.
Twenty-one years have passed me by in this life. 21 years of good times, bad times, baby food, being dressed by my parents, ridicule, embarrassment, triumph, peanut butter and jelly, wearing a uniform, driving a gold '86 Ford Tempo, trying to survive college and wondering what I am going to do with the rest of my allotted time here on the planet.
And finally, after a 21-year old stress ball the size of a cantaloupe has formed on the back of my neck, I can have my first beer. I can enter my first bar. I can go into a liquor store and supply alcohol for minors.
After watching older friends and relatives do this for years, my time has finally come. I wonder what it will be like tasting alcohol for the first time? Oh, I hope I don't throw up. I wonder what it will be like to walk into a bar and look around. What do they have in those places? Is it just a giant troth full of alcohol that everyone shares? Oh my, I wonder.
The point of this rather long introduction to this column is that I'm starting to think that my 21st birthday is going to be a bit of a bust. Sure, I'll be legal now, but so what? All that stuff from before was a lie. For the past three years, I've used a fake ID.
I know, I'm sorry.
The thing is, though, it's just not that big of a deal. I would almost welcome an analogy about snacking and spoiling my dinner here, but it just wouldn't fit. The truth is a lot of underage college students use false identification and even more drink alcohol illegally. Everybody does it and no one, except Bill Kirk, cares. (And he only does if you're at a student-run tailgate.)
The 21st birthday is almost as a big of a scare as much as anything else. It is kind of fun using false identification. It's like you're a secret agent or something. You give the bouncer the ID that says you're 26, three inches shorter and 20 pounds heavier and look at him as if to say, "Haven't I really pulled myself together since my 16th birthday? Now, reward me by allowing me inside for a cocktail."
Or you pull out the ID that says you're 28, three inches shorter and 20 pounds heavier up to the bouncer who has just let in five of your older friends who are all legitimately 21. "Yes, Mr. Bouncer, sir, I'm just escorting these younger chaps out to the bar. I won't be out long, I have to get home to see the missus before the late news comes on."
Remember when everyone was underage and when one person got rejected the whole team, even members who were already in, had to retreat and go elsewhere, basically admitting to the bouncer that, yes, we had used fake IDs, and, yes, you didn't catch us?
Those were the days.
I'll admit it will be nice to be guaranteed entrance to the bar and access to the cocktails. It'll be nice to not have to be the only one of my friends who isn't 21 and has to worry about being denied from the bar. These things are all very good.
But I can't help but feel like something's going to be different now. I feel like it's the end of an era or something. My youth is over. I'm legal now.
There are no legal binds that can stop me from the almighty cocktail. Pretty soon it will stop being socially acceptable (and encouraged) for me to even have more than a few cocktails and act silly with friends.
So, tonight, I'm going to go out and do something I've done for three years.
Only, this time and all times to come, I'll be completely and utterly allowed to do so. Adulthood looms ahead on the horizon for me and for all of us.
Tonight will be just another stride towards that looming beast. Won't you join me at the bar for a cocktail so we can hopefully forget all about it?
Joe Larson is a senior English and history major. He would like to thank Mark Anthony Tritz, William Hartnett Smith and Carl Andrew Benefield for aiding and abetting him along the way to this auspicious occasion. Joe can be reached at jlarson@nd.edu. His column appears every other Wednesday.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Wednesday, October 17, 2001
