On Saturday I celebrated my 21st birthday. I celebrated it in the usual way a 21 year old would celebrate. I started with drinks and dinner, and then moved on to more drinks. Following that I was met with even more drinks. And I ended my night with drinks. Yes it’s true, I totally and completely drank more than my share. But it was inevitable. It was my right of passage. It was my brutal initiation into the realm of expensive booze and the Kearney bar scene.

In an attempt to salvage my grade in Dr. Hanson’s commentary and blogging class, I will do my bets to recant the events of that night. Not that it’s all that great of a story, but It will fulfill my obligation to blog on my spring break. Oh by the way, a majority of this blogging will be done at work, so if It seems as if I am losing my train of thought, it because I am.

Blake and Ryan and two very seasoned drinkers. If there was a major offered at UNK focusing on the science of drinking, I think my two older rowdy brothers would be scholars. At my right and my left the two cheered down every shot of alcohol I foolishly introduced to my body. Like a pack of high school cheerleaders, the two chanted my name in an uplifting manor when I found myself holding a wickedly awful shot of Jameson Whiskey or something along those lines.

The three of us began that hazy night at Lunbergs, downtown Kearney. Shots 1, 2 and 3 went down quite easily. Although I can only recall one the name of one of the shots, they all were somewhat tasteful. Shot 4 was another story. Irish Car Bomb, enough said.

And were on the move. Across 22nd street sat a little downtown Kearney jem folks know as Copperfields. The drinks began to flow much more freely at this fine establishment. Shots 5,6,7, and 8. I think this is the point where judgment became seriously impaired and vision a bit more blurry, my walk a bit more wobbled. But given the fact that there was no way I’d be getting behind the wheel of a vehicle I decided to continue on.

On to Cunningham’s Journal. As I recall it this is where things went epically downhill. Shots 9-17 and a half. I notice that these horrid shots are much easier to stomach once prior shots have taken their toll. I remember people eager to join in the festivities. I have a long list of thank you’s to write to all who contributed to my alcoholic demise. Funny how people will buy you drinks just because its your birthday.

But with the little bit of common sense I still had I mad the call to call it quits. Against the better judgment of my two brothers I made my grand exit from the bars blowing kisses to random people like I was Princess Diana. I slowly and meticulously navigated my way to the awaiting sober ride home. The ride is a complete blur and the walk from the car to the couch a blur as well. With my shoes on and my newly purchased outfit still on I slumped into my brothers leather couch and drifted off into a very deep slumber.

The following morning I awoke with the headache from hell. My stomach had been through the ringer and was paying me back for every shot I had taken. Rising from the couch felt like it took me an hour. My mouth was as dry as a desert. I made my way to the kitchen for some water.

I thought back on my night, very glad it was over. I had dreaded the night for so long and it was such a relief to have it done and over with. I also realized how overrated the bars were. I was so excite to finally be 21 and now I felt it was kind of a funny excitement. It was just a bunch of booze and loud music. From what I remember I really didn’t like it as much as expected.

I think I am just more of a soft white wine guy opposed to a crazy shot taking fool.