21st Birthday, Not Mine Though....

Tonight I'm going to a party commemorating the 21st birthday of one of my good friends, and it's got me to thinking about my own coming of age. I won't be 21 until March 26th of next year, but for some reason that date feels as though it's already come and gone. The excitement of reaching legal drinking age is virtually non-existent these days, because let's face it: if some one under 21 wants alcohol, especially in Grand Rapids, they can get their hands on some booze. The first beer I crack open at the bar on my 21st won't be my first beer by a long shot, just my most expensive one to date, and I don't know if I'll even venture to the bar to buy it. For my generation, the rite of passage that is drinking started at the same time as my father's generation, 18, but the difference is that for them it was legal, and for us it's not. I would argue that there are just as many 18 year olds drinking now than there was before the law change, if not more. By the time our rite of passage, our 21st, rolls around, our generation just shrugs our collective shoulders in indifference. So what does my 21st mean for me? The fact that I've effectively earned a right to pay more for my beer, served in a classier fashion.