Now that I’m 21, I don’t go out to bars as much as I used to. In fact, I drink less now than I did during my freshman year. This might seem a little weird to you, but bars have lost some of their appeal to me now that the forbidden fruit factor is gone. Don’t get me wrong, I love my booze as much as the next college student, but there was just something magical about drinking illegally.
Two years ago I felt like such a badass with my chalked ID, the 1986 craftily re-worked into a 1980 with red, black, and white colored pencils. I’d go down to Allen or Chippewa with a group of friends and get what old people would call a “kick” as I made my way past the bouncers, getting away with it, and sometimes not even getting carded. Ah, those were the days, when drinks tasted better thanks to the rush of breaking a stupid law. Who decided to make it legal to die for your country before you can legally tap the Rockies? Some dumb asshole, that’s who.
No, I’m not advocating underage drinking—if there’s driving involved. Combining the two at any age is a bad move. But what’s wrong with a little teenage boozing? I bet most people reading this drink illicitly all the time. Now, I’m not a gambling girl, but as for those of you who are 21 and over, I would bet money that you started drinking way before you hit 21—I know I did.
The first drink I had was a little cup of wine at synagogue, during some religious event. Jewish holidays always involve a certain amount of drinking. I know I drank Manischewitz during Passover Seder—that shit tastes like grape juice! As for secular drinking, back in high school after every school play, we’d have cast parties at the back room of this place called Burrito Bar. Some freshman would inevitably puke all over their bathroom, but that never stopped the owners from letting us come back. They didn’t care that we were all about 16 years old. Hell, they even gave us tortilla chips to go with our 22 ounce Zima bottles! Now, that’s what I call service.
These days, getting a rush from illegal drinking is a little trickier. For those of you who, like me, are of the legal drinking age, but looking to get back that illicit feeling, I have a few suggestions. Drinking in public, for example, is still against the law—at least in this country. Who’s to stop you from buying a 40 of Molson and paper-bagging it in the park? You might look like a bum, but if you’re such a rebel, do you really care what other people think? I didn’t think so. Another option: Sparks. Sure, they taste like someone pissed in orange soda, but they’ll get you fucked up, and the cans look very much like regular, non-alcoholic energy drinks. See where I’m going with this? If so, lose the paper bag—it just makes it obvious that you’re being shady.
While underaged drinking was a blast, I’m glad to finally be 21. Most bouncers and bartenders can tell the difference between a legitimate ID and a fake or chalked one, especially if they have a flashlight handy. Besides, now I can hit up all those open bar nights without worrying about my ID getting rejected.
Now, which one of you freshmen wants to funnel a beer?
