As many of you may know (or not know, depending on how closely you stalk me), I recently turned twenty-one. And this pleases me for a variety of reasons.
One, I am now able to go to bars. While I don't know if I plan on frequenting bars that often, the fact that I can is very liberating. If I decide to not go to a bar, it is no longer because of a societal restriction, it is because I choose not to.
Two, I am now able to go to bars. Wait, did I say that already? I suppose I'll elaborate. When I'm in plays, members of the cast will frequently go out after the show, usually to a bar. And when they ask me if I'd care to accompany them, my answer would always be, "I'm *insert number just barely under 21* years old." Now, if they ask me, my answer will be a resounding, "Yes!" I have already done this once or twice, sort of.
Three, I am now able to go to bars--Stop that!
Four, I am now able to drink in non-bar settings. For instance, this past weekend I went to see The Conqueror Worm: An Evening of Edgar Allen Poe at Gamut Theatre (a very interesting and well-done production, I must say), and they had some wine. So I got myself a glass of wine. Had me some chardonnay while watching some poetry. And afterward, I hung out at the Townhouse with the Gamut folks, which was pretty darn awesome. We drank and talked about Poe and Shakespeare and Chekhov, along with some more silly frivolities. Every time I hang out with them, I tell myself I should hang out with them more often. But they're always so busy, and I'm always so busy.
Ah, but now I ramble. Is there a five? No, I think four pretty much covers it. I suppose these past two weeks have caused me to realize just how silly a law it is, the whole twenty-one thing. I have a feeling my autumn is going to be pretty darn good. Now where did I leave that bottle of rum...?
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