Today's my birthday
And I get one every year
And someday I'll be buried six feet underground
"Six Feet Under", No Doubt
Sharing a birthday with a famous day is kind of weird, especially since that day happens to commemorate one of the most infamous events of the twentieth century. Everyone knows it, too. One of my best friends does his best FDR impression whenever my birthday is brought up: "Today is a date which will live in infamy forever." Teachers say not, "Happy birthday!" but, "Oh, Pearl Harbor day!" Pulled over by a cop, and asked for my birthday (we were out at midnight and he wanted to know if I was old enough to be out after curfew) I responded with the famous date (this was several months ago) and he immediately said, "Oh wow, Pearl Harbor day! A day which shall live in infamy forever!" He didn't even give me a ticket.
Another annoying aspect of this whole deal is that no one ever actually gets the speech right. It goes like this:
Yesterday, December 7, 1941-- a date which will live in infamy--the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.
So this is my eighteenth birthday. Welcome to the world of pornography, cigarettes, no curfew, sex, and, in Canada, alcohol.
My parents continue to forbid all of these things.
I got three hours of sleep due to AP English homework, and then I got up at 5:30 to open my presents. I got gloves with furry wrist covers and velvet fingers and palms (this was the first of three pairs of gloves that I would receive throughout the day). I went to school (wearing my gloves) and received more presents and lots of nice, preferential treatment. At the end of it, I was presented with a pair of roses that my boyfriend had somehow managed to sneak past me in the morning. Despite the fact that they had sat in his locker all day, they still looked and smelled amazing. I was got that feeling of "wow, there's someone who cares enough to get me flowers!" and felt wonderful all over again.
It is interesting to note that, at exactly 12:00 am, as December 6, 2001, passed into the oblivion of history, and December 7, 2001, began its glorious, terrible run, I felt no magical change come over me. I was not magically a grown-up or ready for any sort of responsibility or even particularly happy. I want my money back.
Later that night, I went out with my best friend, and soon we found ourselves at another friend's house (this friend gave me chocolate laced with tequila, very tasty), and soon enough there were two other people there, and as we went to eat at Red Robin, another of my friends called; he'd just gotten back from Chicago, where he was visiting colleges, and wanted to go out for my birthday. Soon there were two more people. Eventually there would be eight of us in all.
I think the thing that makes me most unhappy is that the movie, Pearl Harbor, came out on Memorial Day. I might complain about the infamy of the day, but I still feel obligated to defend it. It's not like December 7th was a Tuesday this year; they could have at least released the movie IN THE MONTH OF DECEMBER. And then they go ahead and release the DVD or VHS or whatever on the 4th, just because it's a Tuesday. Fuck them and their stupid movie!
At dinner, someone slipped away and told the waiters it was my birthday, and they all showed up and sang, giving me a free ice cream sunday in the process. Then we went over to the mall-- a roving gang of young upper-middle class hoodlums-- but found it mainly closed, so we chose the next best place-- the brand shiny new Super! Target.
Did you know that one of the characters in the Godfather was born on my birthday? Vitto Corleone, I think, because they say that the "Japs" ruined his birthday by bombing Pearl Harbor.
We wandered around the Super! Target, not really bored as hell, no matter how much we looked like it. We ate candy and got out blood pressure checked and one of my friends bought himself three thongs, and another tried to buy me a bra with fuzzy feathers on the top, and then we stood in front of the condoms for twenty minutes. Everyone thought I should buy some, just, you know, in case, but in the end we walked away, mainly because the word "Astroglide" is so disgusting sounding. We had my camera, and we stopped some very surprised shopper and asked her to take our picture. I think my friend may have been proudly holding his new thongs aloft. Hopefully I'll get them developed rather than my parents.
This was the first birthday I ever had where I didn't eat any ice cream cake, or blow out candles, but I did make a wish. I can't tell you all, or it won't come true, but I made it, and I hope it works out.
At the end, I came back to my house and saw the video for "Hey Baby" for the first time. The clock flipped over to 12:00 am again and my birthday was over. I've already been eighteen forever.