It’s amazing how many milestones you have when you’re still in your youth. You learn to walk and talk, ride a bike, go on your first date, hopefully have sex the first time, and have your first legal drink.
I know that others in my era had their first drink at 18 or 19, especially if they drove up to Canada. For me, I had not problem waiting until I was officially 21. That’s not to say I didn’t have a drink here or there – the incident with the two girls, a case of beer and Officer Beck has been well documented here.
And there were the occasional college parties at GRCC where I would have a beer or two. It was more of a social thing, because I really didn’t like the taste of beer. I can safely say that that is not the case here.
As the appointed day arrived, that would be May 28, 1979, I began to think about what I would want to do for the big day. I originally thought it would be fun to go out with my college buddies. But my family had other plans.
Unknown to me, the tradition was to be taken out on an all-nighter on your 21st birthday. Since my oldest brother was no longer with us, the task fell to my two brothers, Jeff and Brian. This is back in the day when I was still towing the family line, and we were all still close. So it wasn’t like I was going out with Jeckyl and Hyde as they later showed themselves to be a few years later. Instead, it was the three of out to have a great time together – which we did, at least from what I was told later.
The location was well known to the family. It was the Blue Banjo in Pioneer Square. This is where everyone had always gone on their 21st birthday in our immediate family. It was no longer called the Blue Banjo, having gained the Doc Maynards moniker somewhere in between my next oldest brother’s birthday and mine. No matter. Same place, same beer.
We arrived in the early evening. I wasn’t even carded at the door. In fact, I would not be carded for almost a year, at which point I thanked the bouncer profusely for finally checking. I had a baby face back then, so I’m not sure why no one ever asked. When I became a Seafair Pirate at 24, no one ever asked, even the strictest places in Seattle. Why? Two words. Pirate costume.
I should have caught onto that gig earlier. But let’s return to Doc Maynards. The goal of the evening was to drink as much as you can. You have your own pitcher of beer to drink. No one is going to help you. It was even free because I had turned 21. Boy, I wish bars still did that now.
I jumped right it. Geez, beer was nasty, I thought. But tradition is tradition. So I had another glass. Then another. Before long the beer tasted just fine. The room seemed a little fuzzier than it had before, true, but nonetheless, I was starting to like beer.
I finished the pitcher. Then another arrived. Then another. By the end of the night, I was a complete blur, well the room was. It was spinning a bit, too. I had finished two and a half pitchers in about four hours. Not bad, but hardly the family record which was four. I was a bit of a lightweight.
That night, I got an unexpected birthday present. Unknown to me, someone had bought me a spinning bed. It looked just like my old bed, but whenever I laid on it, it started spinning. Initally, it was kind of cool. It reminded me of going to the dentist. He would give me some nitrus oxide and then just as he asked if I could feel my legs going over the top of my head, I could. Amazing! The spinning bed was the same. I could spin or flip flip flop, sometimes both at once.
This was not a good idea as I came to find out for eventually I would have to do a little medicinal hurling.. I tried to put my foot on the floor to stop the bed. But it didn’t want to stop. Finally, and thankfully, I passed out. I awoke the next morning with a pounding head and I wanted to die. I didn’t die, of course, but I would swear off alcohol forever, then someone invited me out that Friday and it happened all over again.
That should end this story, the night of me turning 21. But there is a second round of turning 21 that I will share. In college, everyone seemed to turn 21 at some point and one of my very good friends at the time was turning 21 just a week and a half later. It was her first “official” chance to drink, though I imagine she had actually enjoyed herself at college parties long before her coming of age.
We made a date to go out to a Mexican bar which was nowhere near the college for some reason. I’m still not sure how we ended up in Federal Way at the Sea Tac Mall, but what the heck – they sold alcohol.
We sat down at the bar and ordered drinks. I didn’t go with beer. We still weren’t speaking to one another after Doc Maynards. Instead, I went with my first hard liquor drink – a pina colada. In know, a foof drink personified. We drank down two or three and then headed back to campus. I so wanted to put the move on her, but didn’t. Why I didn’t to this day I don’t know. It was juts a missed opportunity that could have taken me down an entirely different path in life. I did however, get a kiss just before she drove off. A single kiss that curled my toes. And I had never had them curled like that before or since. I have always wondered what happened to her. Perhaps some day I will find out.
Turning 21 was a great time for me. Perhaps it is for all of us. The innocence of youth meets the legality of alcohol and suddenly all is possible. Including a hangover for the ages.
Someday, perhaps I will be able to continue the family tradition with my son someday. Time will tell.
Out on the Treasure Coast thinking a Bloody Mary would be pretty good right now,
– Robb