Here’s to Legality

It’s been a while since I’ve turned 19 and needless to say, I’ve definitely been enjoying the perks that come with legality. Picking up at LCBO and getting into clubs is now stress-free and easy. I will say that I still forget sometimes that I’m legal and constantly find myself stopping mid-sentence of, “I can’t get in to —” when realization hits me that I can get in anywhere now (boo yah). But a small part of me misses the thrill of trying to get into a club with a fake. Hold the shock and let me explain. 

Although nothing sucks more than spending all that time getting ready, pre-ing, paying for a cab, and waiting forever in line only to be rejected by the rude bouncer and ending up spending your night in Little Ceasar’s with their $5 walk-in special, there is a thrill that comes when you actually get into the club with your fake. Personally, I think it’s the rush of doing something that is illegal (but something that you won’t end up in huge shit for or where you’re parents will be involved). I remember being hungover and saying, “My hangover is so bad, it should be illegal for me to drink alcohol … oh wait, it is illegal for me to drink alcohol.” Now that getting absolutely plastered is legal, it loses a lot of it’s appeal. I mean since it’s legal for me to drink, shouldn’t I try and drink more responsibly (this thought occurred as I was downing my eighth tequila shot of the night, so I can’t vouch for it’s validity).

My first time getting into a club was in Toronto and I was still underage. We thought we were going to a frat party at UofT but everyone decided to head to the club. My friends and I left our fakes in the hotel and we were all wearing jeans and Hunters, so we definitely were not club ready. The club was so ratchet, that we ended up getting in by slipping the bouncer a $20 which was followed by the most thorough pat down of my life (airport security did not even compare to that woman at the club and I was drunk for this one). I’ve also been rejected at the club before aka the worst night of my life. It was St. Patty’s so I should have known better. But I stood in line for over two hours, had the girl in front of me puke all over my shoes and when I finally got to the front, the bouncer told me nice try so I ended up having the cab driver take me to the McDonald’s drivethru before heading back to res.

Another thing about reaching legality earlier than your friends is you still end up going to shit clubs since they can’t get in anywhere else with their fakes. That cool club that you always wanted to try? Nope, you gotta wait until everyone is legal. Also, you’re the one that everyone turns to when they need to pick up. Have you ever struggled getting $500 dollars worth of alcohol into checkout and in a car? Not to mention the look the cashier gives you. Don’t even get me started about looking for everything everyone wants and texting like half a million people about how you can’t find their exact drink request. That enough makes me want to down a whole bottle of vodka. (Insert obligatory drink responsibly spiel here).

Being legal has created a huge hole in my pocket. When your debit card gets declined at Starbucks, realization dawns on you that you spent basically your whole paycheque at LCBO last week. The rest of it you probably spent on cabs to get to the club and cover. I quickly learned that if I bring my debit card out with me, drunk me will use an ATM and be broke by the end of the night. Now, I only bring $30 in cash with me every time I go out. It’s enough for splitting cabs, cover, coat check and drinks and I don’t end up pulling out more money when I run out.

But once your friends also reach legality you really start to enjoy the perks of being legal. Activities that you hadn’t been able to do before can now be crossed off your bucket list. Grabbing beers during patio season, at a Jay’s game or a concert, going to a club without worrying about someone not getting in, or trying out all the drinks on a menu. Or just being fucking classy bitches with your wineglasses at dinner. Sure, you don’t need alcohol to have a good time or have fun, but if you’ve ever been with drunk girls in the washroom you’ll understand why everything is better with a drink or two or eight. But honestly, if girls treated each other the way they do when drunk in the washroom, the world would be a much better place.


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