I expected most of what happened after my 21st birthday last week: birthday hugs from bouncers, free shots at the bar and a heavy hangover the next day are all pretty standard initiations into the adult world. What I didn’t appreciate was losing my ability to move around. That’s not supposed to happen until at least 70.
It seems that when you turn the big 2-1 your license expires. Didn’t I know this before, you ask? I am a dumbass. And I hate making trips to the DMV. Every time I tried to drag myself down to the Department of Motor Vehicles I would get a funny feeling in my stomach. The thought of waiting on line for hours just doesn’t sound like fun.
Living in Ithaca can sometimes make you feel cutoff from the world. Things just don’t seem real when you are surrounded by Finger Lakes and Clocktowers. Unfortunately, the whole “license expiration” thing is real. Low and behold, my laziness has left me immobile. It’s going on Day 5 that I have not been able to drive, and I recently was told that I may have to retake my road test, which is a scary thought because I was not the greatest driver as I remember. Street signs? What are those?
So basically, instead of feeling like 21 this week I’ve felt more like 15. At 15, not being able to to drive meant not being able to leave my house. In Ithaca, this means I won’t be leaving Collegetown anytime soon. So that’s better I guess, since I rarely venture outside of Collegetown Bagels anyway.
While losing one’s license at 21 is good for avoiding DUI’s, it’s bad for about everything else. I of course retain the ability to buy porn and cigarettes, vote and join the army, which I’ve been able to do since 18 (thank you Mr. President). Phew.
Don’t worry about me though. I can still sit in my car and reminisce the driving experience. And I’ll get to the DMV eventually.
Archived article by Logan Bromer
Arts and Entertainment Associate Editor