34 Going on 22 ~ Stories From 13 Hours of Birthday

Two beers? Twice as nice.

It's always a guy that asks. Someone figures out that TW is in Boston and I'm alone at home.

"So, is it like being 22 again?"

Most days, the answer is definitely not. I do laundry, buy groceries, cook, hike the dog and maybe play a little PlayStation.

Tuesday, June 14, being alone was a lot like being 22. It was my (or around my) 34th birthday Tuesday. Eight Ball — our landlord's daughter, next door neighbor, and dear friend — turned 22 on Tuesday. I had Tuesday off. It was decided Eight Ball and I would celebrate Tuesday. Here's my hourly account of the events and drinks:

Whiskey coffee and birthday cake. Nice of Eight Ball to dress up.

11 a.m. Beers consumed: 0. (and 1 shot of whiskey)
The coffee maker is turned on. Not for coffee's sake. No, no. I'm 22, remember? We were having Irish coffee. That's how we roll. Eight Ball came over and the power went out. We drank a whiskey coffee and decided it was time to go to our first bar.

Antics to report: None.

Noon-2 p.m. Beers consumed: 2

Bacon-dusted french fries, anyone?

Somehow, it slips our mind to mention our birthdays at the first stop of the day, Nosh. We could have gotten some free fries. Let me tell you about the fries at Nosh: Bacon dust. That's what you need to know about their fries. They do something that involves bacon fat. They are freaking spectacular. I don't know why I ever dine at any other restaurant, anywhere in the world. It's simply wasted calories on things that are not bacon-dusted french fries.

My God. Decadent and only $5. We pounded through the fries and had some burgers. We split an IPA. We left and did a little shopping. An hour and a half later, we came back to the car. Daisy was still there, looking bored. Whatever. We were going home.

2 p.m.-5 p.m. Beers consumed: 3, for a total of 5. 

Awwwwww.

Suddenly, it's a great idea to sit on the couch in our living room and watch "It Might Get Loud," featuring guitarists Jack White, Jimmy Page and The Edge. We crank up the quality of beer – I went with some fancy beer from upstate New York – and our dogs get plenty of attention during this period. Molly gets flowers from her Mom. Why doesn't my family send flowers? *Pout*

Some would call this point in the day a "lull," but I continued to keep up with the 22-year-old. Muhahahahaha.

Ema, our cute-as-a-button PA student roommate, dropped in. She was sick but had enough energy to down some birthday cake. I think I had a slice.

5 p.m.-6:30 p.m. Beers consumed: 2, for a total of 7.
Eight Ball's sister/cousin/step-sister/person Kate arrived from Saco with her boyfriend, Will. The only reason I remember their names is they are the same as the royal couple. I made a Pippa reference. So help me.

Will and Kate were our ride to The Great Lost Bear. Eight Ball was actually conceived in the back of the Bear (true story), so it made logical sense to go there. It also made logistical sense, as we could easily walk home.

6:30 p.m.-10 p.m. Beers consumed: 4, for a total of 11.

I have no idea why I took this photo.

The night starts to get interesting. Eight Ball tells me a story from her college years, regarding her getting a reputation at a bar for engaging in antics on a pool table. Boy-girl antics, not Tom Cruise antics.

Eight Ball was getting to the point of no return. I was feeling like a champion at this point. I had outpaced a 22-year-old. I put her on a timer. 10 minutes between sips of a beer. She pouted a bit but mostly abides by the rules. Respect your elders. That's important.

Matt showed up at the Bear around 7:30 after a day of scrubbing the decks on a local tourist boat. He likes senior citizens (who pay attention to the tours he leads on the boat) and dislikes younger folk (who have no interest in historical markers). Matt is finally becoming jaded.

Eight Ball started to look sleepy, so I put her on a 20-minute break. She pouted again but seems to recognize it's for the best. Our bill is $135, pre-tip, for five people. I'm not really sure how that happened.


10 p.m.-Midnight. Beers consumed: 1, for a total of 12.

Sugar. Sugar. Sugar. Sugar. Sugar.

We headed back home from the bar. Eight Ball decided to wear heels. She held my arm half the way home, then switches to Will for the other half. A blister develops on one of her feet, but she powers through.

Will and Kate depart but Eight Ball settles in to play PlayStation. She has some drunk driving to do. She was lapped twice during her attempt to complete a single lap. But she eventually got the hang of it.

We're loud. We're loudly discussing things. TW calls from Boston and tells us to keep it down. That's how loud it was.

We hushed up for a minute, Matt and I decided it's cake time. A plate crashes to the floor and cake is eaten off the floor. I felt so bad for my roommate, who has to wake up at 4 a.m. But not really. Molly leaves, at some point. Matt followed suit. I toddered off to bed after checking Facebook (duh).

Epilogue
I can easily imagine two reactions to this. From my friends who have parents, I can picture envy. I mean, who has 13 hours to party on a Tuesday? I do. I can also imagine a form of revulsion. It's juvenile behavior, to be sure.

In truth, my own reaction is somewhere inbetween those two. It was the most fun I've had on a birthday in quite some time. Ironically, it gets old being 34 and 22 years old at the same time. The unintended consequence of moving across the country, uprooting TW and myself from our social groups, jobs and each other, is that I now have the time and inclination to act out my wild 20s.

In part, that's because I never had any wild 20s. Nothing like them. I remind myself on a regular basis that it will be different a year from now. TW will be done with school. I hope to be rooted in a church. Maybe I won't be working nights. Just as I knew moving across the country would give me permission to be 22 again, I'm looking forward to being 35.