The Death of a Youth

15 Oct

It seems like everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve always been the young guy. The last child, born in July, meaning that most of my friends celebrated birthdays throughout the course of the year while I waited patiently to turn 18 and 21. Though what month you’re born it matters less and less each year, the age still comes into play once in a while. Even among newer groups of friends, whether at school or abroad, I still always found myself to be one of the younger guys.
Not anymore though. Maybe because by now my age is finally catching up with me and I am in fact getting older. I thought I was the youngest person in the office until I found out otherwise. But regardless of the age, it also matters on how you feel and act. For years I’ve been the kind of guy who likes going out hard and doing as much as possible, but in Buenos Aires, the city that you would expect to cultivate that state of mind, I’m turning the other way.
Blame it on working a full time job, but I just can’t party the way I used to. I don’t have the time, energy, or money. I’m balancing many things, while trying to study for the GRE and apply to grad schools at the same time, and a responsible and sensible side of me is kicking in. Take for instance last night. After watching the Argentina/Uruguay game at a bar after work I went with some other people I know to a club called ‘Museum.’ Museum is an ‘after-hours’ club that people actually dress up in suits and dresses to appear like they’ve just come from work if they haven’t actually done so, and every Wednesday you can get in for free before 10 pm. It usually ends around 3 am, which is an early night. People have to work in the morning, after all.
It’s a really nice place, with 4 floors and a stage in the back for performers. I went there with a group of interns at a local expat-focused newspaper. These interns go out nearly every night, and as they always ask me if I’ve been to some club or another, I dumbly say no, I don’t know it. I’ve only been to 3 clubs maybe in 2 months. They know every spot in town and get in for free.
The club had a nice atmosphere and the music was good, but by 10:30 I knew it was time for me to leave. I had to wake up early after all. I was wishing I could stay, but a part of me felt like leaving anyway. I said goodbye and started to leave. Back when I studied in Spain we would go out 5 days a week or so, and it was great. But I remember reading some quote on the wall at STA Travel once. It said something like, ‘Those who have lived their youth don’t feel the need to do it again.’ It makes sense.
I had a good run while it lasted, but I think my crazy party days are behind me. As much fun as it is go to out until all hours of the night, I don’t like feeling hungover for 3 days, especially when I work most of the time and need to study as well. I still like going out for sure, but maybe once a week is all I need. I’d love to have the kind of situation where I was free to stay out late and wake up whenever, but for now that’s just not the case. I might not see as much of the city this way, but it’s being more responsible and actually participating in a work atmosphere like other Argentinians, rather than being on an extended vacation with a hint of work.
And just hearing these words coming out of my mouth kind of makes me weep a tear for the death of my youth. I hope I don’t start drinking a glass of milk with a cookie, a cap on my head, as I watch Murder She Wrote before bed. Once that happens, it’s game over for Jon…Hey, it’s not all bad. I get to go to Uruguay tomorrow for the day with work. I’ll take that over a hangover.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: