In some parts of the world what marks you as an adult is some long standing tradition driven ritual, in the USA where cultural ties don’t go far beyond French fries or pizza we only have one rite of passage. When you turn 18 you can buy a lotto ticket, a pack of smokes and go to a strip club, while all those things are great you are probably still in high school or just recently graduated and still not treated with all the adult privileges. That’s right, you still have one more bigger better birthday down the road that will make you into a real adult – your 21st.

Well the other night was my brother Prometheus’ 21st birthday so being the older wiser brother I did what anyone would do – I took the day off and road tripped to see him. I picked up a bucket aptly renamed the puke bucket, pack of Gatorade, Alka Seltzer and some aspirin – experience has taught me these things are needed. The down side to this day of all days was that it was on a Sunday night, not exactly a party night especially when the birthday monkey had a 9:30 class the following morning.

‘Alcoholism!’ you shout, maybe so but you don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing. In the US this is more than just being allowed to drink this is the mark of adulthood. There are no more age barriers for the rest of your life – except maybe retirement, access to Social Security and a few other old people things but that’s neither here nor there. This is put on your big boy underwear type freedom and let me tell you it doesn’t get any better than that. To be honest I think that the US should lower the legal age and look at alcohol like many other countries do and kids learn to appreciate it at a younger age. Depraving a young teenager the gift of a hangover is just cruel, especially if they break the rules and do get a hangover they have to hide it – doubly cruel. Alas, let me step off my box….

I took my brother out for some wings and beer for dinner, well beer for me the little guy was still 20 at that point and the stingy waitress was no fun. After a coma inducing throw down with chicken wings and potatoe wedges we took a mini power nap – what I said it was coma inducing and the All Star basketball game half time show sucked. Once 11:30 hit we gathered our wits, so we could loose them later, packed in the car and drove downtown to do some bar hopping.

The first bar we had a beer, my brother’s first was an Abita Purple Haze followed by a Jager bomb and a shot of Jose Cuervo. Well I asked for a shot of Jose Cuervo but the bartender fluffed it up a little – I’m fluffy enough I don’t need my drinks to be. To add insult to injury (other than my shot that is) they never carded the little guy – those bastards! So we went off to another bar and got him a fish bowl – no litterally it was a fish bowl filled with purple stuff. Then after a few more bars with their house specialty shots we ended at a laid back pool hall bar for some hot nuts. I know that sounds dirty but it’s a shot, just click the link you dirty human. We finished the night with a round of Dos Equis and let our designated driver (yes we were responsible) take us home.

The whole night my brother boasted “I’m not that drunk” which is true he was doing pretty good but it was still night. To say I was proud is an understatement, the little fur ball didn’t even puke. He did however feel like crap the next day, and returned home after making it though only one class. That my friend is where I left him, asleep on a 4 hour recovery nap before his next class after an intoxicating night on the town with yours truly Cornelius Aesop.

Do you have a good birthday story? Any recommendations for the next time I take him out or a must try drink or shot – during a weekend where wake up time is simply monday-ish? Leave a comment below and if I like it enough I just may make my brother Prometheus succumb to it, with photographic evidence of course.

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Tags | 21, alcohol, bar, bar crawl, birthday, celebration, drink, party