My sister turned 21 recently, which is an event that caused me to reflect upon my own 21st birthday. My sister chose to spend her first night of legal drinking age having a refined dinner with friends, a glass of wine, and then spending the rest of the evening studying for a final that she had the next day. If my sister’s 21st birthday behavior was that of a responsible adult, I can only describe my actions as being those of a complete and utter piece of human fucking garbage.
I didn’t know too many people who were also 21 on my 21st birthday, and my special night fell on a Tuesday when most of my friends had class the next day, so there was really only a select few people who could celebrate with me. These people included my roommate (I’ll call him Jeffuhsun), one of my close friends and former roommates (let’s call him Jack Black), and my girlfriend at the time (we’ll call her Lydia).
I should have just waited to go out, but turning 21 was very important to me for a bunch of different reasons. First of all, I loved to drink. Second of all, Lydia was older than me, and I always felt bad that I couldn’t go out to bars with her because I felt like dating me was limiting her social life. The third reason has a lot to do with the first ,which is that I was probably a borderline alcoholic. Judging by the standards of how the average student at a small arts school consumes booze, I was a hardcore alcoholic, but relative a broader definition of college drinking, I drank like I went to a god damned state school. So I guess I was ok? [bursts into tears, makes fourteen apologetic phone calls]
Pretending like a spiked Gatorade was my penis, saluting no one in particular.
Alright, I am going to just get to it, I drank a lot that night. Way too much, both in terms of quantity and variety. Here are the types of alcohol that I drank during my 21st birthday.
Confirmed: Ketel One vodka (shots), Jager (shots, gross.), Jack Daniels (shots), a Blueberry Beer (pint. There were actual blueberries in it).
Unconfirmed: (these are what I believe I drank after I blacked-out thanks to witness testimony): An unnamed well (more like poor!)-vodka (shot), and a Guinness (pint).
Now that you know the players, here is how the game went. I lost.
After meeting at my Fenway apartment, Jeffuhsun, Jack Black, Lydia, and I walked to a place called Boston Beer Works. Living in Fenway, I had walked by that place tons of times, and in honor of Boston’s rich tradition of homophobia and Irish alcoholism, I bought a beer with fucking fruit in it. Having already been extremely drunk, it is unclear at which point during that bar visit Jeffuhsun bid us adieu, but he was gone before we left.
Drinking beer out of a Wiffle Ball bat.
As we walked across a bridge over the Massachussetts turnpike, I remember Jack Black attempting to throw a traffic cone over the side of it, to no avail (Jack Black had even more trouble holding his liquor than I did). Lydia looked on in concern.
As I write this, I now realize Lydia was there more as a chaperone and caretaker than my girlfriend. The girl was a trooper, god bless her.
Next we walked to a place that I think was called Cornwallace’s or like St. George’s Crow, I literally have no fucking idea. Upon entering the bar, Lord Blake of Alcoholism decided to announce his royal presence by reaching into his pocket, pulling out a Nerf football (my friend Sarah gave it to me as a gift, so of course I brought it out to bars with me), and proceeded to fire a pass down to the opposite end of the bar.
Now, just incase the owners of the establishment somehow missed a loud drunk child throwing a football across their bar, the football was equipped with whistles attached to it, so as soon as the ball left my hand it sounded like a god damned air raid was taking place. Everyone in the establishment stared at us in shock. Lydia then proceeded to profusely apologize, telling them it was my 21st, and then my brain shut off. No recollection of anything that happened after that for a little while.
When my brain turned itself on again, I was in mid air. I thought to myself, “My god, I died. I drank myself to death, and now I’m floating up to heaven. You know what? This isn’t that bad. It’s actually kind of nice!” Then I hit the floor. I had fallen off my stool. When I looked up, Jack Black was screaming/talking shit to a group of Boston fuck’s, whom were understandably sick of our shit (I found out later that Jack Black had been talking trash to those guys all night for no reason whatsoever, so at least that one wasn’t on me).
Myself and comedian Eric Krug. 2011
That was it, don’t remember anything else. Spent the rest of the night vomiting/making things very difficult for Lydia. Woke up the next day, went to class, but not before hopping off the subway two stops before where I went to school so I could vomit in a trashcan.
So in closing, an enormous shout out to my sister, who is a far better person than I’ll ever be. This drink’s for her.
*Editor’s Note: Got really bummed out while writing this both because of my past reprehensible behavior/the fact that I am aging.
**Editor’s Note: I am the editor.