I'm 21 and still alive

This past Thursday I turned 21. Perhaps the last significant numerical passing in my life. I had only one class on Thursday and then I registered for classes for the Spring semester, so it was a relatively easy day, thankfully. I came back to my room after lunch to nap so I would be prepared for the shitshow that would be my entire evening. I took a shower, got my crap together to get ready at home and then left with my designated driver for the night, my cousin. Even as I type this, it seems like all of this happened weeks ago, very odd.

Anyways, we got to my house and my mom made a very lovely dinner of lemon chicken with capers and roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was delicious and I definitely overate, but of course I still had room for my birthday cake, which I regret not getting to take leftovers back to my dorm...oh well. At dinner, my older sister asked if I wanted a watermelon martini, which I declined, and my little sister, who is precious and so funny in all her 11 years of life experience, said, "Oh, yeah...you don't want to get over-drunk do you? You're gonna be over-drunk like dad when he puked up shrimps in the driveway!" Oh, how I love her. The incident that she's talking about is the only time that we've ever seen my dad drunk. He was at a shift Christmas party with my mom and I guess some other firefighters were egging him on to do a bunch of shots, needless to say, he got pretty wasted. The next day, my little sister yelled at all of us to be quiet because dad had the flu. Now she knows there was no flu at all.

My older sister, my cousin, and I left to the bar at around 8:30pm so we could get in before the 9pm cover charge started. My sisters had gotten me several ridiculous, obnoxious accessories to wear all night to tell people that it's my 21st birthday. These included a pink feather boa, a flashing "it's my birthday!" star, several strands of beads, and a tiara that said "buy me a drink! I'm 21!" I felt ridiculous, but by the end of the night I appreciated the gesture.

When we got to the bar, we found our table of friends and then my sister asked me what I wanted to drink. Hmm..I wasn't really sure because I'd never been to a bar before, so I didn't know what they had to offer. I picked a UV bomb and a cranberry and vodka to start. My sister and I took the bomb and I brought my cranberry and vodka over to our table, where another shot and a large mixed drink called a "Motherfucker" was awaiting me. In the next hour, I took 9 shots and had two mixed drinks. I know some of the shots included a red-headed slut, an apple pie shot, a soco and lime, and a jager bomb, given to me by a girl who I hadn't seen since freshman year of high school.

The amazing thing about celebrating your 21st birthday at a bar is that everyone will buy you a drink. Everyone. The only memory that I have of this is looking at my digital camera because my sister took pictures with me and a bunch of the guys that bought me drinks. The worst drink that I had the entire night was a Rumplemintz shot. My cousin bought it for me, so that alone should have told me that it would be terrible because he likes to drink very hard, very serious liquor. Rumplemintz is a 100-proof peppermint schnapps imported from Germany. This shot was taken later into the night and after I took it, it was the only time that I thought I might throw up. It burned so terribly, and since my sister wouldn't buy me a chaser, I had to gulp down some of her Coors Light to ease the pain. When I thought that even the Coors Light didn't taste too bad, I knew I was going to be fucked over the next day.

My sister's goal for the night was to get me to drink 21 shots. I know that I drank more than the equivalent to 21 shots because she was a bitch and wouldn't count all the bombs I had as a shot and a half since they were bigger. She didn't count the mixed drinks at all, and a part of me thinks her real goal was to kill me. I don't remember a lot from the Rumplemintz shot on. I don't know how I got back to my room, but I know two of my best friends were in there to help put my drunk ass to sleep. The next morning, I woke up with pink feathers everywhere, clothes strewn around on the floor, and I couldn't find my bra from the previous night for anything. Needless to say, I didn't go to class on Friday. I thought I would be able to because I woke up early enough to go to my 12pm class, but then I realized at 11:30 that I was still fucked up. I went back to bed on and off until around 4, but no one wanted me to sleep apparently because I kept getting calls from people. My mom was very concerned for my life, as was I to be honest..But I was quite the champ. I did not throw up once during the night. Yesterday, I felt like I was going to throw up several times during the day, especially when I tried to eat, but still, nothing. Tonight I'm going to the bars with a few friends, so we'll see how that plays out. As for now, I'm alive and well.