At long last, the fateful day has arrived. Yours truly is 21.

Yes, this is a big moment for all of us. But before you start clogging the phone lines offering me free drinks, let’s take a moment to reflect on what this once-in-a-lifetime event really means.

At 17, R’s mom bought her her first fake ID so she could go to Vegas on spring break with her friends. A year earlier, another R found herself wandering through the seedy alleys of Chinatown to procure her very own false identification card. Little did they know that years later each R would meet an R much like herself, with whom she would use her trusty ID in good times and bad, until one R’s ID was taken away at Ruloff’s two weeks ago. RIP R’s ID.

Up until that fateful, tragic, soul-crushing night, neither R encountered any challenges in the pursuit of superfuntimes, other than the oft-confusing plight of remembering to pretend to be who our I.D.’s said we were. Interestingly, R’s ID said she was R.

R: Who’s that?

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