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I was TDY to Cherry Point,N.C. Marine Corps Air Station-taking a Bullpup missle loading course.
Didn't know a soul at this base. I got arrested by the M.P.s for trying to hitchhike into the town of Newbern. Provost Marshall let me walk. I Toasted my 21st with a beer at the enlisted men's club and hit the sack.

My 21st birthday hit during finals week in grad school. The party had to wait. But I had partied for years before that, and did for years after that, and still have a couple every so often, so the actual birthday was not the big deal, just that I didn't have to "sneak in" with the crowd anymore.

Actually, what was better was that I got on a plane to Europe just a couple of weeks after my 18th birthday, where it was legal at 18. Of course, I had to be careful not to show up hung over each morning for college tour choir practice, and stay with the group, but our director realized we were all legal, so didn't get involved unless someone was really on the verge of overdoing it, and would quietly send them to bed.

The best part was two weeks after I got home. Here I was, just a couple of months past 18, and after being able to drink legally, and back home in a "dry until 21" state. We went to a local "watering hole" near campus that served cheap pitchers. Having done this now legally, I didn't even think. I just yelled up to the bartender, "Two pitchers and (looking around to see how many guys came along) six glasses, please." We were served immediately! About half way into my second glass full, I realized I had gotten served because I just ordered normally, like I had previously, and not with any obvious intrepidation at getting carded. I rarely got carded after that.

the elephant wrote:

tubatooter1940 wrote:I was TDY to Cherry Point,N.C. Marine Corps Air Station-taking a Bullpup missle loading course.
Didn't know a soul at this base. I got arrested by the M.P.s for trying to hitchhike into the town of Newbern. Provost Marshall let me walk. I Toasted my 21st with a beer at the enlisted men's club and hit the sack.

Why did they but you, tooter? Were you on post with your thumb out? If you were off post you would have been outside of the MPs jurisdiction . . . or has that changed since you pulled your hitch?

Hi elephant,
I was thumbing where the traffic slowed to stop inside the gate. My home base at MCAS Beaufort, S.C. allowed us to do this back then.
And yes, much has changed since my service. We worked on F8U Crusader jets and carried M-1 rifles. I got an M-14 just before discharge.

Quite lucky the drinking age here in the uk is 18 but thats another story , my family put on a suprise party , no one gave anything away my Girl Friend , brothers....anyway was brilliant drank so much Wild Turkey and Jagermeister it was unreal!!!!!
I've also remembered through some photographic evidence..a flameing orange drink I was "Forced" about 10 times to drink...

Was Kummell , Jagermeister , Grand Marnier , Some Bacardi and a flame!!!!!! random amount of booze added , flame it...put your hand over , wait for the air to get sucked from the glass and down it in one!!!!! ho hum...
Nick Jones Cocktail Bar is open for buisness...all your medicinal potions available here...

I was a teetotaller when I was 21, so that part of the story is not there. I was off from college and had a summer job at McDonald's (yuck), where most of my bosses were high school age! Anyway, I had the day off from work. I went to the beach with my girlfriend. It's a nice memory but it was really a nothing-ish day.

Day after tomorrow, I turn 50. I am joining AARP. It really doesn't mean much here because I have my mail sent to my box in Nevada. I plan to go out to eat at the Texas Bar BQ in District 3 and pick up my July pay (I will not be working on Friday.)

My 21st birthday was uneventful but my 22nd would be memorable. In November 1978 I dropped out of school at the same time I would catch a very serious case of tonsillitis with a high fever. While I was sick, I contacted the Marine Corps, the Navy, and the Army recruiters. The Army recruiter was the only one who called me back (knowing I was sick). He let me take the ASVAB when I still had a 104 fever. I still scored quite high. They wanted me to do something technical or be a professional linguist but I chose to be a tuba player in the band. Passing physical and playing exams, I joined the Army in January 1979. During that time I had a short term job with a TV station in Los Angeles, which was scheduled to end the Friday before I flew to St. Louis to go to basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.

Anyway, my 22nd birthday was at the School of Music that Wade referred to. I remember the morning formation that day. This was the first day in my whole life I ever had to do anything important on my birthday--like work or go to school. I stood in formation with a big grin on my face. I remember the sergeant coming to me:

"Billy Jack (I was probably one of the few soldiers no one except marine officers called by last name), why are you smiling?"

"It's my birthday, Sergeant!"

"Is there something you want before you do your 25 push-ups?"

"I want everyone to sing Happy Birthday to Billy Jack. Even the sailors and the marines!"

You know what? They did. And I didn't have to do any push-ups!

Ah... Such memories!

If I remember the time line correctly it was April, 1968 and I was at the end of a 6 month deployment to Iceland hunting Russian submarines from a P3 Orion. Legal drinking age was 18, so I doubt I was drinking any more (or less) that day. All that day basically meant to me was one day closer to my enlistment being up and one day closer to getting out of Iceland.

At that point in my life I was still going to have another 6 month deployment to Iceland and the Azores before getting out. Turning 21 was pretty much a non event.

Not that I'm complaining about being in Iceland. It was about as far away from Vietnam as I could get and still be on the planet

Played a concert, went to a diner, ate pancakes, went to bed (had an ear training class at 8:30 the next morning. ) Went out to dinner at Applebee's that weekend with some friends. It was fun, but nothing crazy...don't even remember if I got a beer or not.

I've had much more interesting experiences than that...like the time my friend (having returned home safely from his first tour in Iraq) kicked over a mailbox in a quiet residential neighborhood at 3:30 AM (one of the big blue postal mailboxes, not a house mailbox). I don't think it would've been funny if he hadn't shouted "MAILBOX!!!" at the top of his lungs as he did it. I struggled with breathe from laughter as I tried to pick that mailbox back up....

Another lesson learned that night: Never call a cab company again after the driver, trying to make conversation, starts a sentence with, "After my first DWI...."

21st birthday Had my tonsils removed at the Navy hospital in Long Beach, Calif. the day after I completed BUDS training.

So either the MAJORITY of you all are lame, or I was just quite immature..I'm going to guess the latter. I did what MOST just-turned-21 year old's do...drink heavily. I didn't go anywhere. I stood at home with my family and partied there. Long story short, I drank a LARGE amount in a VERY small amount of time. I learned what happens when you drink just a little too much alcohol..haha It was a good day with good food. My subsequent birthdays have been MUCH better.

Ralph

the elephant wrote:Ralph, you must not have read my second post in this thread. And that is that the older persons here did not go out to drink heavily on their 21st birthday because they had already been legal for two or three years.

I did read your posts. That is also why I said the majority. Then again, though, most who posted WERE of the age to where the legal age was 18 or 19. So I think I still lose either way. Hmm...maybe the topic should gravitate to what were the most memorable times with alcohol involved.

Ralph

I woke at 0500L and reported to the Sergeant of the Gaurd at the Tikrit MP station, a trumpet player, to report for my gaurd shift. From 0600 to 1800, SGT Colleen Granado and I provided perimeter security for the 4th Infantry Division Headquarters on gaurd tower number 3 at the Tikrit Presidential Palace compound. The highlights of the day included drinking a 150 degree(F) Apple Soda from Kufa and after my shift while on the Quick Reaction Force, eating an MRE pound cake decorated with M&Ms and watching a Scorpion Fight a Camel Spider which SFC Russell had so lovingly provided for entertainment. All in all, the shittiest birthday ever.

When I turned 18 I took a break and laid off drinking for that night...

the elephant wrote:My older friends bought me a bottle of Korbel Brut Champaign.

Word to the wise: Never take a long pull from a freshly opened bottle of bubbly. Just don't do it. It will be a mess.

I don't remember much else from that night.

Is that memory loss that has accumulated over the years, or were the memories of that night gone by the next morning???

I've never been so drunk that I can't remember the next morning, but I have been on the wrong end of someone else having that experience.

Last summer, me and a friend went to visit another friend of ours, who was doing a master's degree in Boston. After a night of drinking, it was time to head back to my friend's apartment. So, we find ourselves standing in Front of Fenway Park. I know we need to turn left, head down Yawkey Way, back towards the apartment. My friend, who lives there *insists* that we need to turn right to go to his apartment. Well, he lived there, so we turned right. Once we reached Commonwealth Avenue, it became apparent to my friends that we had gone the wrong way. Apparently, my constant insistance that we were going the wrong way wasn't enough. So my friend says something about needing to head towards the Prudential Center, and marches off to the left. It was at this point that my other friend grabbed him, spun him around, and pointed out the Prudential Center in the EXACT OPPOSITE direction he was going.

It took us 45 minutes to make the 10 minute trip home.

The worst part, is that 5 minutes after we walked in the door, my friend had absolutely NO recollection of the entire trip.

The drinking age was 18 when it was my turn. At that time, I didn't drink. My first "experience" came on my first weekend in college (Texas A&M, which Playboy Magazine declared unfit for entry in their all-time drinking colleges, because in that collegiate competition Aggies were considered professionals). Unfortunately, I remember every detail: Tripping over the hole in someone's yard through which I was weaving, having seen the hole from 30 feet away and still unable to steer clear of it; buying snack food at a convenience store to speed up my "metaba... meta... metabl..."; being laughed at by my old high school band buddies whose company I was upsetting.

I decided then that I just don't like being out of control. I've never since made it beyond the mild buzz phase, though there were a couple of occasions playing in the Wurst Band at Scholz' Garten in Austin where I pushed that line pretty hard. But I was playing tuba outdoors in a Texas summer, and beer was provided by the crowd. Not drinking it would have been downright ungrateful.

Rick "still not old enough to handle being drunk" Denney

Went out at midnight, with my folks, and had the next door neigbor lady serve me my first legal alcoholic drink. Spent the rest of the weekend traveling playing softball.

You changed the title of this thread (I've been away from the computer for a couple of days!)

I wasn't a problem drinker, but I knew where to get alcohol if I wanted it. When my high school band went to Europe in 1973 (this was a month before my sixteenth birthday), our band directors forgot to make any rules about getting alcoholic drinks. We were smart enough then to be discreet in what we did--we could get anything imaginable (even when getting it was illegal in a particular country). There were no problems.

However, one month before my twenty-first birthday, my grandfather (a world-class alcoholic) was involved in a terrible accident and was in a detox facility in Pomona, California, for the next year. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol from that time until December 2005, a few months after my divorce.

It should be noted that, unlike most of the United States (which lowered the drinking age in the 1970s), California's drinking age has always been 21.

It's also worth noting that I am the grandson of two alcoholic grandfathers:

My mom's dad died from complications of cirrhosis (ten years after that detox treatment.) He completely quick drinking any alcohol after that but he had abused his body for almost 60 years--wine for breakfast, beer for lunch, and the hard stuff for supper. When I was 10 or 11, against my mother's wishes, he took me on a fishing trip to Salton Sea (a big salt lake southeast of Palm Springs). I broke my thumb and needed immediate medical attention. On the 80 mile trip back to San Bernardino, Grandpa made two liquor store stops--to buy a "tall boy" (discreetly wrapped in brown paper).

My dad's dad was kicked out of the house by my grandmother and I never saw much of him. He couldn't find work and became one of the vagrants too many of us ignore and wish would go away. In 1971, my dad received a big manila envelope from the Maricopa County Health Department in Phoenix, Arizona. Enclosed was a letter that stated they had been looking for the next-of-kin for James Ira Long for almost two years. He died in 1969 of a heart attack, complicated by cirrhosis. Also in the envelope was Grandpa's death certificate and what they found in his pockets (a check in the amount of $4.17 was the amount of change he had in his pockets). They said he had lived on the streets of Phoenix for about 5-6 years, near Sky Harbor Airport. (Those of you who know Phoenix, know the area, I'm sure.)

Consequently, now that I am no longer a teetotaller, I am extremely careful of what I do drink. I think now how stupid I was for drinking as a teenager. It's all a matter of personal responsibility.

Bob1062 wrote:Bob"I remember when I used to be funny, but now the only thing that people laugh at is THIS"1062

You were funny? When?

Bob1062 wrote:Wade's whining got to me!

Well, it's ABOUT time!

...over waffles!

Mmmmmmmm!

Ah, there is nothing that can compare to the ambrosia of single malt over waffles. Except just single malt.