Forget D-Day. Forget the fourth of July. Forget Valentine’s Day. The most epic day in history comes upon us in t-minus 10 days. Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls: my 21st birthday is nearly here.
Let’s face it, the big two-one presents the penultimate event in our young adult lives. Twenty-one is our last right-of-passage birthday, in any case. Jennifer Garner may laud “30, flirty, and thriving,” but 30 marks the end of our young adult lives — and who among us is actually ready for that?
Twenty-one is the real deal. It’s the birthday that ushers in true adulthood — and, quite frankly, I am thrilled. I know what you’re thinking: “You can finally gamble! There’s an actual reason to visit Las Vegas! Good on ya for holding out, Holshouser!”
While I would never dream of downplaying the allure of risking my dismally limited college-student funds, I speak not of gambling. I speak of liquor. Booze. Intoxicants. Spirits. Hooch. Juice — and I’m not talking cranberry, unless we’re venturing into the realm of Cosmos.
Being under the legal age of alcoholic consumption, I have, of course, never before tasted the wiles of John Barleycorn. Alcohol is bad and inevitably leads to one of the Three Evil Ps: pregnancy, prison or polygamy. America sure does have it all figured out: anyone under the ripe old age of 21 could never possess the skills required to resist the devilish charms of alcohol.
This brings us to my upcoming celebration. With great power comes great responsibility, and with sufficient age comes great expectations. I cannot simply waste my paramount alcohol experience on a Natty Lite — I must weigh my choices and accept no less than the best for my very first drink. But what to choose? Let’s ponder my options.
FOUR LOKO — Blue Hurricane Edition: There’s something wholly unnatural about Four Loko in general, kind of like microwavable grits. I can’t decide if it resembles pureed alien guts or liquefied neon — either way, it’s a little unnerving. Blue Hurricane Four Loko certainly poses the biggest risk. As my friend once put it, this flavor tastes like cancer went to Cancun. This will absolutely not be my first legal drink.
COSMO: I am not Carrie Bradshaw and I do not own a pair of Louboutins, so I cannot order this drink. That’s about the extent of my Cosmo knowledge.
SCOTCH: I only know of two people who drink a tumbler of scotch. One is my mother and the other is Richard Gilmore. My mother drinks it because a little old British man once bought her a glass of the stuff in an adorable pub nestled in the English countryside. Richard Gilmore drinks Scotch because his entire family is batshit crazy. I am not my mother and, unfortunately, I am not Richard Gilmore. I may become a Scotchie sometime in the future, but it will likely not be in the next few weeks.
WHIPPED CREAM BURNETT’S: As I said before, we should all uphold our fair nation’s legal age of consumption. However, if we were to ignore this law for a night or two over the course of our pre-21 adulthood, I would absolutely turn to this drink any day of the week. Yes, Burnett’s is cheap vodka. Yes, Whipped Cream Burnett’s is a biddie drink. But from a logistical standpoint, this is a very practical purchase. It goes perfectly — I imagine — with Coke, coffee, Cheerwine and crushed up orange popsicles. It is dessert with a cheeky kick. Also, at least 70 percent of the males I’ve ever met confess they have a secret fondness for this drink. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.
GIN: Gin is made from a coniferous tree. It smells like a coniferous tree. It tastes like a coniferous tree — or so I’ve heard. If you like candles with names like “Balsam and Cedar” and “Christmas Bough,” this might be your drink. It always makes me feel like I should hang an ornament from my nose, string some multicolored lights around my arms and start singing “O Tannenbaum.” If I wanted to smell like a tree, I’d hike up my pantaloons and move to Yellowstone National Park. I prefer to leave this beverage to its forefathers, the Dutch, and their millennial counterparts, the Hipsters.
TEQUILA: From what I understand, tequila comes to us from a cactus-like plant. I’m a Media Studies major and I don’t understand how to biology, but being made from a cactus seems pretty intense. Plus, when you take a tequila shot, you get to hold a lime slice, too. This has always seemed to me like receiving more presents. It would be only too kind of me to allow salt and lime to join my big 21st fête.
RUM: Rum is sweet. Rum is versatile. Rum can be made into cake — which, from my point of view, makes it the king. Cake is good. Rum is good. Everyone likes rum at a party. This is probably why it tends to disappear first at many college get togethers. In the immortal words of Cap’n Jack Sparrow, “Why is the rum always gone?”
Laura’s column runs biweekly Fridays. She can be reached at l.holshouser@cavalierdaily.com.
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