There’s one thing every collegian agrees on: The legal drinking age is ridiculous. The age of 21 is completely arbitrary, and laws about drinking are so unevenly enforced, it’s a joke. So let me say what we’re all thinking: The drinking age should be 45.

I realized this yesterday, as my best friend Paul turned 21. I reflected back on all our times together, like the time we made a film about a living plank of wood named ‘Two-by-Four,’ who travels back in time somehow by riding his sled too fast. It was titled ‘The Fast and the Furious III: The Low-Budget Adventure to Gladiator Land.’

True story.

It was then I realized there was no way the people involved in that production had any reason to drink, since we are already out of our gourds.

Really, young people in general have no need for the effects of booze. Only over-the-hillers have problems so big that they must be drowned by sweet lady liquor. Twenty-five-year-olds have problems like, ‘My car is lame. I might not get laid this weekend.’ Forty-five-year-olds have problems along the lines of, ‘I forgot to pay my alimony and child support and the cops showed up at my door and I soiled myself in my only good suit and now Bob at the dry cleaner’s looks at me funny.’

Especially here in college, the limitless free time and lackadaisical atmosphere make alcohol unnecessary. For instance, drunk or not, your friends would probably be up for a plan such as ‘Let’s drive to Florida RIGHT NOW and bring back a sea turtle!’ But add some Keystone, and the plan becomes ‘Let’s take my car to Florida and BLEEEAARGH.’

Even as a 20 or 30-something, you still have other drugs that aren’t socially acceptable for the older crowd. Sure, you might not bat an eye at blazing a doob, but can you imagine a mid-life crisis on E? You’d be running around town with no pants, asking for a trophy wife who is also a crime-solving robot.

We young people often say drinking is the first step to hooking up, but that’s just selling ourselves short. We’re in the prime of our lives right now, and our bodies are lithe and bursting with pheromones. Take one look at a 45-year-old, though, and tell me you could hit that without some double-thick beer goggles, even if you’ve been married to them for 20 years. Well, except Sting, of course. Sure, he’s a little older than most, but you know he can still deliver seven hours of tantric heaven. And those muscles, so toned and seductive. Plus, you could be listening to live Sting the whole time, and …

… I’ve said too much.

One of the most important issues is that once you hit 21, there aren’t any birthday milestones to look forward to. Setting the new limit at 45 would give older folks something – anything – to look forward to, other than planning your own funeral and laughing at your children’s ugly spouses.

Finally, imagine a college experience without the distraction of alcohol. We could all have perfect attendance in every class and grade point averages of more than 3.7. Wouldn’t you rather graduate magna cum laude than drunk?

Me neither. Forget it, give me a beer.

Published on February 19, 2006 at 12:00 pm