I try not to make a habit of hanging out with 18-year-old girls. Guys either for that matter. Last night I danced with hundreds of them.
I was at a monthly event called Fuck Yesss at The Drunken Unicorn, a venue/club just down the street from me. Typically, as I get older, the 18-21 group seems to appear increasingly younger, more tender – the opposite of wise.
Looking back, I can’t imagine how we didn’t attract attention in high school as we drank indifferently in public places. Sure, our hemp necklaces and witty t-shirts were shared by our college-aged peers, but it certainly wasn’t an adequate disguise for our baby faces and scrawny proportions. I couldn’t have been a convincing 23-year-old, as my ID suggested, but I was never hassled as I walked out of countless gas stations with a case of Natural Light under each arm.
That said, I witnessed a phenomenon last night. It was midnight and the place had just opened. We were standing at the back of an unexplainably long line, which, 30 yards ahead, turned into a clump of over-anxious weeknight club goers. The mass of people near the front was prime for line-cutters. After five minutes, and no line advancement, we gave up and headed to a neighboring bar.
Expectations for the night were pretty low, so a PBR and a game of Big Game Hunter would have been enough. But since there are three S’s in Fuck Yesss, we decided we should give it another shot. When we got back the line was a lot shorter, but after a few minutes we realized it still wasn’t really moving.
Then someone asked, “Are you guys going to be drinking?”
I do like dance, but dancing sans alcohol is risky, “Yeah, why?”
“The 21 and up line is up there.”
Turns out, there wasn’t really a line, just because nobody else over 21 was waiting. I glanced back at the line, not fully comprehending that the hundred or so people that were behind us were under 21. I guess we were important because we would probably be giving money to the bartenders, instead of the local Xanex or ecstacy dealer.
The music was average, but the place was absolutely packed. Every square foot of space was occupied except a three foot area around the DJ on stage. I started to fade around 2 a.m. and had work in the morning, so I headed for the door.
Bars in Atlanta stop serving alcohol at 2:30, and close at 3, but there was still a line when I left. Since they wouldn’t be drinking I guess they still had an hour, even so I’ve never seen a line for a club this late, especially a line 50 deep.
Hipsters look old. It adds anywhere from three to five years to your appearance.
I’m guessing that probably 75% of the crowd was under 21, but I couldn’t tell. I could have been dancing with a girl who has health class in the morning, but every single person looked like they were in their mid twenties.
It’s the perfect match. Excessively skinny bodies, thin patchy facial hair, and longish unkept hair are associated with both hipsters and teenagers. It’s the perfect cover, and I now understand why it’s a popular lifestyle choice. Don’t get me wrong, emo music can be catchy, but they really just want to look older.