I'll tell you what I miss. The days when me and all my friends were just out of College. Well, ok, I mean I REALLY miss College. But, those times after it were good too.
Not that it was that long ago. I mean, I'm not 30 or anything...yet. But you know, when we first got out, even though we all had respectable adult jobs, to which we were expected to wear respectable adult clothes (some of us...whose Mom still does their clothes shopping for them...domski...ahem, cough cough), we were still a lot like we were when we were actually IN school. Which is to say, every Friday and Saturday night we'd go to the bar and seek to accomplish maximum drunkenness by 10 PM. Usually with great success...
It's kind of funny. I went back to Newark, Delaware recently, which, for those of you who are aren't familiar with the First State, is the site of THE University of Delaware, the fine institution that issued this asshole an undergraduate degree in International Relations (this was only because they didn't offer beer pong or ice luge shots as majors...but I minored in those anyhow). And while I was there, I went to one of our old stomping grounds, at which we used to coax Turc God (for more on Turc, see here) into drinking New Jersey Turnpike shots (see definition 2).
The weirdest thing, besides the fact that they had 22 oz. Bud Light cans for $2.75, was...I got invited to a "late night."
Yeah...a "late night." Above DP Dough...Which, of course, means nothing to you, but anyways...
I didn't really even know what to say to that. I mean, I'd be lying if I said part of me didn't think about it. The chick that invited me certainly wasn't bad looking at all. But I really couldn't get past the fact that I have no idea how to act around college kids now. A few beers and my memory would likely be jogged. But also, my old ass was tired and I wasn't trying to hang out past 1 AM anyhow. Sad, really. My 21 year old self would kick my current self's ass for this kind of thing if we were ever to meet in some crazy time warp or something. I pulled what they call, a "Domski."
Anyways, these days, the high fives and head nods have turned to hand shakes and waving hello. A case of PBR cans and a heated game of beer pong has turned into a 6-pack of Yuengling and an hour of Rock Band (not that there's anything wrong with it). We all get together every so often. And it's just like old times. But everyone's got their own lives. Shit to attend to. School. Work. A Hyundai Elantra. It's amazing what a difference a few years makes!
I just thought, in the wake of another semester of death...I mean law school...and in anticipation of tomorrow night's shit show, that I'd reflect on good times.
Here's to getting sauced tomorrow! It's a celebration, bitches! I just hope my body doesn't hate me too much for Sunday's game. WE'RE GOIN' TO THE BAR! Get your drinking pants on, Matt, Tecmo, Domski (you better double up)!
Post Script - For the record, throughout all of this College, post-College, semi-responsible-adulthood, Domski has not been drinking. Not one drop. No beer. No liquor. Not even any boxed wine. He has drank some apple juice, though. From a juice box. Like a five year old. Or Amy Skurka. That is all at this time.