I just turned 21 last month, and despite what people say, it’s just a number…. a number that will turn you into an alcoholic.

My older brother took me out at midnight on my birthday with some of his friends, because none of mine are old enough yet. We went to Federal Hill and I had my initiation at a bar called Ropewalk. The group hooked me up all night. It was awesome. I must have tried a “slut” of every hair color imaginable. Also I had a lot of drinks.

Compared to the stories I’ve heard of other 21st birthday celebrations, mine was pretty tame. No one got into a fight, no one got arrested and everyone made it to a bed or couch before passing out. I got about as drunk as I can get without getting sick, and that was enough for me. There was no rush. I knew there would be plenty of debauchery in the coming months.

It’s been roughly three weeks since, and I have been drinking any chance I can get. Obviously there are the weekends and the parties, but things are getting ridiculous fast. The freedom is addicting. Every liquor store becomes fair game, and swinging by one on the way home is impossible to resist. A lot of the time I’m not even drinking to get drunk anymore; I’m just drinking because “Nip/Tuck” is on, it didn’t rain, or I’m making Tuna Helper. Those are all acceptable reasons now.

Take Monday night as an example. I got a text message from a friend I haven’t seen in a while asking what I was up to. After a little back and forth, I suggested we meet up for a beer later at Rec Room. It still tickles me that I can “meet up for a beer” anytime I want. I felt like a real grown up for the first time in my life. A few hours later we were sitting at the bar with a couple of brews, catching up on old times. We played foosball, we ate wings, we laughed, we cried. It was really mellow and relaxing.

It wasn’t long, though, until our freshly-turned-21-college-kid-side came out. I sort of forgot to take into account beforehand that my friend is an aggressive drinker and that I am easily goaded into drinking more than I want to. Pretty soon “a beer” turned into three beers, which turned into a lot of crazy shots, which turned into me running up a $30 bar tab on a Monday night.

That type of thing probably wouldn’t happen just sitting around the house, but with the power to go to bars comes the responsibility of not drinking yourself into oblivion, or bankruptcy, every night. I’m willing to tiptoe that line. My only real goal is to not end up on “True Life: I’m An Alcoholic,” “Intervention” or “Cops.”

I can honestly say that my 21st birthday was really the only birthday that changed my daily life. When I turned 18 I didn’t start buying tons of porn and cigarettes. Well, at least not the cigarettes. I guess 16 was pretty good because I was able to drive, but somehow I see being able to buy beer as more monumental.

As a side note, I have considered the fact that now I have no birthdays to really look forward to and perhaps my life will become a slow downward spiral towards senility, but those thoughts are easily drowned in legally obtained vodka.