I’m twenty-one and I feel great. The law has finally recognized that I can handle my liquor. I tried, though, to buy cigarettes at the 7-11—I indulged on my birthday—and the cashier refused my I.D. After he scanned it, he slid it across the counter and told me he couldn’t sell me cigarettes. He scratched his neck as I stared at him blankly. Felix came in and handed the clerk his I.D., which he deemed authentic. I still bought the cigarettes. So I can’t use my own I.D., but I can use someone else’s.
Our house threw a kegger on Friday. Yeah beer! After Freddy and I lugged it back to the house and situated it in the downstairs shower, I began to realize that many of the people I knew were away for the weekend. I worried that each of the two hundred cups of Rolling Rock would not find a home. The summer residents, though, made me proud by leaving no cup behind. A good crowd of forty-something people got merry until about 2.
On Saturday, the rain poured and I took a day of rest. As usual, the front of our house and E9 resembled a trashy trailer park. Red party cups were strewn across the lawn. Broken chairs slouched with puddles in their seats. Charred firewood rotted in the rain. As I surveyed the block from my stoop, I saw that everyone else’s porch was immaculate. I couldn’t help but feel slightly superior to my neighbors.
Seth shared with me his musical bounty. Highlights were the new Dirty Projectors EP and the “Girl Talk” mix tape. Barrett and I made some tasty Vindaloo curry for dinner.
Mom, Dad, and Drew came down yesterday. We drove to New Paltz and dined at “The Guilded Otter," mecca of hungry tourists. We joined the droves of yuppies to eat delicious meat and socialize over home-brewed beer. We ordered burgers, except for Drew, who ordered a roast-beef sandwich. Mom took a picture of me sipping what we all knew was not my first drink But we pretended it was, just for fun.
Dad reminded me not to buy alcohol for underage kids.
We went back to the house and ate Reece’s Peanut-Butter Cup cake that Mom had made. We chatted a while and they left to drive back to their hotel. Their visit made me realize that as much as I’ve enjoyed the summer at Vassar, I’m looking forward to being home.
Later that night, Sam brought out his sunglasses collection and we held the inaugural meeting of the Sunglasses Club. Kim chose large mirrorshades that gave her the appearance of a futuristic insect. Barret went with the serial-killer/Unabomber look and sported brown aviators. I picked a wire horn-rimmed pair and pulled my hair back to assume the persona of a suspect jazz musician. I need a haircut.
