life sucks when you're not 21. trust me, i know. i'm 20.being 20-years-old means that i'm in limbo. i'm given responsibilities, but i'm still treated like a child. i'm on my own, but i'm a student. and the age old inequality, i can fight in a war, but i definitely can't drink.
the worst of all is being 20-years-old in philadelphia in the summer. i'm taking classes and working, yes, but my weekends and nights tend to be free. what do all able-bodied adults do on free nights and weekends? they go out.
out for me means center city. it means getting all glammed up in costumes of desire and intrigue that make me, for one night, someone else. the mysterious girl by the bar who's kohl-lined eyes are half covered by her dark hair, but whose big eyes are watching intently. the bubbly girl who's the life of the party, dressed impeccably in the latest outfits, and who everyone wants to be and be with. i'm not saying i ever am one of these girls (trust me, i'm not), but i can try. out means hailing a cab ever so smoothly, and getting one every time. out means dancing, laughing, having a great time with friends while trying to talk up the cute guy who's over there with his friends. think sex and the city, and that's what out means to me.
except when you're 20. then none of this matters. i'm too old for frat parties, unless i want to be a frat groupie, which, um, no, thank you. and i'm too young to go downtown. take last saturday.
my friends and i had nothing to do, so we decided to go to byblos, located near rittenhouse in philly. it's a popular hookah bar that i've been to before, and it's one of those places where i'm guaranteed to have a great time. we went out, armed with our fake ids. we got out of the cab, and everything went the way it always does. guys would call out indecent remarks and old-school pick up lines, and bums would ask us for money. we, two of my female friends and one of my male friends, walked away smoothly and cooly, never losing our composure.
the bouncer, an african man dressed in a white suit, instantly looked at us suspiciously. my male friend gave him the id, which happened to be an indian driver's license. the bouncer looked at it, then at us, and back at it, ending this repetition by calling over the owner. my friend knew his brother, the other owner, so he cajoled him into letting him enter the club. i was next. i handed over my international student id, and the bouncer again repeated his little dance, with an insolent smirk on his face this time. the owner was called over, and what did he say? no. you can't go in.
i was baffled. i have never been turned away from his place below, and this was a blow to my dignity. with me not getting in, no one wanted to go in, so we walked away, offended. i was offended, anyway.
but really, what can i do or say? this is the life of a 20-year-old, totally based on luck. sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. until i turn 21 (in 7 months), i'm stuck. in the meantime, all i can do is work on getting a better fake, and make myself look a little older.
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