When I was a kid all my friends ever talked about was turning 16-getting a driver's license, where they would go, what they would drive. And when we were 16 and driving hoopties and collecting obnoxious key chains, all they wanted was to be 18-not listening to their parents, moving out, getting tattoos. And when we were 18 and piercing our parts and underage drinking, and waiting in line for concert tickets, all they wanted was to be 21-buying their own Aftershock and going to bars and finally becoming an adult.
But all I ever wanted for as long as I could remember was to be 28. I'm not really sure how I arrived at this number. Maybe it was because my Dad always told me I wouldn't really be an adult until I turned 25, or maybe it was because my only sibling was nearly 10 years older than me and my perception was skewed. Either way-not only was I wishing my life away, but I was wishing myself to the brink of 30.
For someone now on the brink of 40 that seems like a horrible idea, but looking back I made a pretty good call on 28. At that age I was just adult enough to be totally independent, come and go as I pleased-but still able to get away with a bare fridge and zero shits to give. I was slinging drinks for a living which meant cash in hand, a sleep till 4 pm schedule, and sometimes even blow for tips. I was embarrassingly in love with someone who just wasn't that into me, but I did have the attention of a good number of pretty beautiful people. And I took full advantage of that-though my confidence and looks hadn't even peaked yet.
That time in my life only started to spark fires that most people would never even imagine having to put out. I traveled on an illegal Chinese bus on a regular basis. I once got on it with just an hour's notice and a toothbrush. My writing was finally beginning to turn into something bigger than myself-almost quite literally it turned me into a whole other person-or entity really. I made a movie, I flirted with fucking my way to the top, I wrote a song that charted in Denmark. (be jealous) I drank vodka and Bushmill's on a PBR budget. I started riots. I had everything from harshly lit art galleries to CBGB in my day planner. I climbed high, and fell hard-on a constant roller coaster of young want and hope, and adult misgivings and pessimism. And every lesson that I had to learn over and over again as a kid, a teenager, a twentysomething finally sunk in. Because when you're 28 there is no hiding from hecklers behind Mommy's leg. No one kisses your skinned knees or picks up the tab. There is no guidance counselor for almost 30. So you make a fool of yourself and you share too much, but you keep going because maybe you will accomplish something in there somewhere. And when you do you hear every nuance of every round of applause. Then you feel every failure like you will never pick yourself back up.
But at 28 I was never afraid of being hungry. Or alone. Or STDs.
Because at 28 I just didn't fathom there would be a 40.
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