Turning twenty-one was suppose to change everything. No longer would my friends and I wander around late at night, scratching our heads, puzzled on what to do because everything has closed. No longer would bold, black Xs mark and signal my youthfulness to the masses. No longer would I jealously chug water as my friends tipsily giggle an order for more rounds. I planned to rage- paint the town red some might say.
Pssh, what a fail that plan was. My birthday rolled up on me so quickly (on a Monday no less) that to celebrate I merely accompanied my friend to my favorite hangout, “Buzzmill,†for my first legal alcoholic beverage at that magic midnight marker.