Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Waiting for the Turn of the 21st Year

When I returned to Georgetown from my semester abroad and began this column, I expected a definite period of adjustment to the signature smell of the dining hall, to spending more than five dollars on lunch or to the hours spent in my Lau cubicle. Strangely enough, none of these practicalities has really fazed me. Yesterday I dined on a plateful of Leo’s finest macaroni and cheese and thoroughly enjoyed it. Now that I am once again earning money, I don’t seem to have any trouble spending it on food or otherwise. And my cube on Lau 3 is quite comfortable, thank you very much.

The weirdest part of my return so far has instead been reassimilating into the Georgetown population. It might sound dramatic, but after spending four months with just eleven other students, navigating basic social interactions on campus was awkward at first — even scary. A Sunday afternoon in the library, the busy hour at Leo’s from noon to 1 p.m., the student section at the Verizon Center and even the sidewalk in front of Healy during rush hour — not to mention a weekend social gathering — seemed overwhelming. I kind of felt like a freshman again (not that it’s a bad thing).

But I think I’ve caught up: I’m enjoying all my classes, the Hoyas have been winning (fingers crossed), and of course it’s been great to be back among 7,000 of my closest friends. Meanwhile, I’ve discovered that the junior spring social scene presents a trickier challenge than even abroad-returnee syndrome: the 21 problem.

In the fall, birthdays passed without much extended celebration. The drinking age in Turkey was a lenient 18, so 21 was quite unremarkable. Four of us had birthdays, but these celebrations never involved head stamps and certainly didn’t end with much drama. Rather than crazy nights out, exercising our newfound privilege more often involved a glass of wine over dinner with our professors — which can sometimes be just as entertaining — than crazy college ragers.

So while it wasn’t terribly strange being “legal” in Turkey, it was weird to return to the U.S. lacking this official entitlement. This semester, I could probably mark my weekends not by places traveled or things seen but rather by the number of my friends crossing into the great beyond, i.e. getting their heads stamped in the finest 21st birthday tradition. The junior class seems to have been split into an arbitrarily assigned dichotomy: those who can go to the Tombs and those who cannot.

Unfortunately, my late summer birthday — a great point of pride throughout my childhood — now places me squarely in the latter category. And for those of us who remain behind, it seems like the magic age is an all-too-frequent topic of conversation. “Are you 21?” may have added some variety to the traditional NSO-style icebreakers, but I definitely don’t have the right answer (or the right ID).

I know that turning 21 is only five months away (things could be worse) and that the Tombs couldn’t possibly live up to the hype my “elders” have bestowed upon it (although Country Night does sound like it would be right up my alley and Trivia Night definitely seems like a good time), but that doesn’t soothe the pain of dropping another friend at the top of the stairs at midnight on 36th Street or quash the fear of missing out of some kind of quintessential “Georgetown” experience no matter how crowded or loud or sloppy.

I won’t try to pen an eloquent argument for a lower drinking age or even complain too much about the distinctions between the U.S. and the most of the world. After all, maybe all of my friends who are over 21 are the ones missing out on their last chance at free fun. My day will come eventually. But for now, you probably can find me in a townhouse somewhere attempting to sneakily change the song from Macklemore to Garth Brooks.

Audrey Wilson is a junior in the School of Foreign Service. CULTURE SHOCK appears every other Friday in the guide.

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