I’m usually not a belligerent drunk, but Monday night was my 21st birthday, so I’d like to think that I earned it. The fact is, after hearing about some of my escapades from friends who were able to remember the event, I’m astonished that I wasn’t arrested.
I’m writing this article in class right now. I’m in no shape to be listening to what the professor is saying because, quite honestly, I’m still pretty drunk, and I have a deadline to meet.
Did you, the reader, really think I was “of age” this semester? All those columns about being shit-faced on Facebook and riding the Metro in a drunken state – the whole time I was (gasp!) breaking the law! But I’m legal now, and I hope Student Judicial Services is reading this right now.
I can’t tell you what I drank, or where I drank, or how much I drank, because I really don’t remember. All I know is that I woke up on my mattress without sheets or pillows – since they were still in the wash at 12:20 p.m. – and I had class 25 minutes later.
I feel sorry for the kid sitting next to me. He can undoubtedly smell the liquor still on my breath, and it sucks that he has to listen to my incessant coughing and the festering loogie factory in my sinus cavities.
Oh, no! The professor just called on me. How could I possibly answer that question? This class is not in a lecture hall, either – it only has 13 people in it!
What a great weekend it was to turn 21 at GW. Two incredible artists – Talib Kweli and Matisyahu – played for me and 3,000 of my closest friends. Well, except for that one girl I saw at the show. I can honestly say that if she Facebooked me, I would click “decline.”
It all started as I was trying to bulldoze my way through the crowd before Talib’s set, trying to reach a couple of my friends stationed at the front of the stage in the Smith Center.
“Oh, no he di-int!,” I heard in my ear.
“Excuse me?” I said, after turning around.
“I know you di-int jus’ push me!” she said, waving her sassy head side to side like an angry cobra swaying in front of a snake charmer.
“I’m sorry – I’m just trying to get to my friends . ,” I replied.
“Yeah, well you just pushed me!”
“Um … this is a concert.”
“So!?”
“There’s a lot of people here .” I should have stopped talking right there, but this girl was just being ridiculous. So I said, “Obviously you’ve never been to a concert before.” That really pissed her off.
“O yeah!?” she said, “Well, obviously you don’t know who the f*** you’re talking to! My boyfriend’s here and he’s gonna’ kick your f***ing ass!”
“That would be a hate crime,” I replied, as I turned around to keep bulldozing. “Enjoy the show.”
Seriously, people need to just chill sometimes. In the words of comedian Chris Rock, if someone steps on your Puma, let it slide!
Now that I’m 21, things are going to be so much easier! No longer will I have to travel to the liquor store with a backpack, nervously stuffing it with an entire case of beer in the courtyard of Columbia Plaza. I can now say “hello” to those friendly University Police officers while carrying a shady black plastic bag filled with bottles. But, most importantly, I can rent a Zipcar! Now I can drive to Costco in Virginia and pick up a 24 case of Yuengling for only $15!
I wonder if Costco also sells new livers, because mine is going on strike.
-The writer, a sophomore majoring in journalism and music, is a Hatchet humor columnist – and with his head shaved looks a lot like Natalie Portman. He has never been arrested, but this column is fairly incriminating.
