It's one of the few nights of your life that silky sashes are a rite of passage, champagne is in absolute abundance and McDonald's is a mandatory menu component. 18. There's laughter, there's tears, and there's even new friendships made with your various uber drivers throughout the night (shoutout to Rob from the Netherlands and his ridiculous bass system). You're not even sure if it actually is night anymore. One glance at your phone through blurred double vision to just make out that it is in fact no longer your day of birth. Nevertheless, you keep dancing on that podium like you are
a backup for JLO in a music video circa the early 00s. You scream 'I LOVE THIS SONG' at the commencement of every.single.song.
One too many shots of bacardi later and you're oblivious to the multitude of TERRIBLE photos that you've appeared in. Strangers upon strangers wish you a happy birthday and then there's the occasional 'HAPPY HENS!!!!' that stunts you for a second. You scrunch up your face. More free shots?!!! You suppose that 18 brings along with it superhuman tendencies to withstand questionable amounts of alcoholic beverages - it's not until when you wake up at 3pm that day with a backwards t-shirt and a spectacularly smudged face of makeup that you'll begin to question that theory. You have one of your Ardell Demi Wispies still on. The snapchats evoke a range of cringe-induced scoffs. Your stomach feels like a tumble dryer. The night club now resides in your frontal lobe.
It's okay though, you tell yourself, because that was ironically one of the most memorable experiences of your life so far. You have the instas to prove it. When your friends deliver you hangover remedies and you collectively work on piecing together all of the night's myriad of anecdotes, you'll be smiling from ear to ear whilst simultaneously clasping your face with both hands. No way. Not me. I did not do that. Oh yes, yes you did.
Thank you to all of the beautiful people that made 18 everything that I had hoped for and so much more.
I love you.