I Love Being Young

“Pour it on me!” my friend Kat shouted as she ran by me during the 10k run at our conference track meet my senior year. Without even thinking twice, I flung the water that was in the plastic cup I was holding on her. The water soaked her jersey as I watched her run along the second straight of the track.

Over twenty-four hours later, I was pouring Blue UV into a different plastic cup and topping it off with lemonade. Kat stood in front of me as I took a sip of the strong, lukewarm drink where my twenty-two year old self didn’t care if a drink was cold or not. We were standing in our friends’ apartment on campus with our other teammates. Conference had ended, and it was graduation weekend. A bunch of my teammates and I were graduating the next morning at ten am. We were at our last college party as college students because the following fall, I found myself at three more college parties when I visited my friends who were still there.

Soon, we found ourselves walking back to the track that was now empty and dark as if the activities from the past couple days hadn’t conspired. Adrenaline and the power of youth were powering through my veins as we climbed the tall fence to the track. I gripped the metal under my ringed-fingers and flung my body in its buzzed state over the fence. We walked to the track as one of my teammates took off his clothes and started running around the track to run a 400.

What a time, but I knew at that moment this would become a memory on May 11, 2019 in Cedar Rapids, Iowa

As we walked back to the apartment in the dark surrounded by people where our days of seeing each other almost every day were numbered, I thought to myself, “I freaking love being young.”

Chapters of youthful stories kept being filled as the years after college went on. Chapters hit the final page while I begrudgingly turned to the next chapter, each one hurting a part of my soul. For the love that it contained and the nerves of the upcoming one.

That was exactly where I found myself in the early days of September 2022 in Glasgow, Scotland. I was on the last pages of my Glasgow chapter. In the early evening, rain sprinkled on the Airbnb window I was staying at for the next few days. Gray clouds were painting the skies as I fished my brush out of my suitcases and ran it roughly through my hair for the first time that day even though it was almost seven pm. I pulled on a plaid blazer over my bra and shorts before pulling on my thigh-high boots. I put the final touches on my makeup before shoving my wallet into my pocket.

I examine myself in the mirror eager for the night ahead of me because earlier in the day was the day I moved out of our apartment in Merchant City, one of the neighborhoods in Glasgow.

Funnily enough, the night out with my cohort was taking place at bars and clubs in Merchant City so I would be heading back there for the night. The morning before my alarm went off at 8:30am because we had to be out of the apartment by ten am, and I had spent the night before at a club named Popworld with my friend Rachel. We had ordered partinis (giant cocktails) and danced to pop music before getting cheesy fries at Blue Lagoon on the way home.

My leather jacket and tight, black dress was laying on the ground next to my twin bed when I woke up. My alarm was yelling at me that my life was changing, my time in Merchant City was ending in an hour, and my Glasgow chapter was about to hit the final page in a few days.

All things I didn’t want to be reminded of that morning. I was twenty-five, and out of college for over three years at this point so I knew that adult life was harshly ever-changing, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. So that morning, I lugged my bags down to the laundry room where I was going to store them until I could check into the Airbnb. The laundry room at my building was a small building you needed a code to get into not a key because I didn’t have anywhere else put my things since my friends lived across town or the university accommodation office was up a giant hill so either way I would have to take an extra Uber I didn’t want to take so the laundry room it was.

It worked out because now here I was standing in the Airbnb getting ready to leave for a final night out with our cohort before I would be moving back to Illinois for the time-being. I took one more look around the room before leaving the Airbnb and walking to the bus stop to take the bus downtown. Living in Merchant City was nice because you can walk to many bars and clubs in Glasgow, but now since I was staying in Calton Hill for a few days, I would have to take the bus.

The rain drizzled on me as I walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus. I watched people wander by sucking down their cigarettes or hitting their vapes under the cloudy Saturday night sky. I kept watching people walk by going about their Saturday night plans as I took in my surroundings as I waited for the tall double-decker bus to skirt up to the stop. I had spent the past year in Merchant City learning the comings and goings. I had walked all over the neighborhood and the city center wandering into Charing Cross then into Partick and the rest of the West End. Occasionally, something would draw us to the south side, and we would fumble off the subway into the streets. It was a longer walk to Calton Hill from the city center, but I would do those few days I was staying there. My first night though I didn’t feel like walking along the busy road leading into Merchant City in my going out outfit that I wanted to stay crisp so I got on the bus.

Once the bus reached a few blocks from the Counting House, the Wetherspoons pub, where we were starting the night off, I hopped off the bus and weaved through everyone else who were out on the town this particular Saturday night. My boots hit the damp pavement as I rushed up to the Counting House large main entrance heading straight to the large in the center of the grand room. I ordered a pint of Kopparberg cider before I decided to look for my friends, but one of them tapped me on the back as I grasped the cool glass under my ringed fingers.

Now, the night was in full-force, and the melancholy from the bleak moving process in the morning and afternoon had disappeared. Friend by friend joined us and we soon headed to the arcade bar that was funnily enough, minutes away from my old apartment. Then we headed to the club down the block from the arcade bar. It was late into the evening at this point, and a few friends had headed home.

Us remaining ones stepped into the busy sidewalk of Trongate discussing how we were craving fries or chips.

“I know a place we can go!” I said excitedly as I was thinking about the chippie across the street from my apartment that my friends and I frequented after nights out. It’s definitely a place you only step foot in drunkenly after two am.

“It’s around the corner,” I continued, and soon we were walking under the fluorescent lights of the chippie where other party-goers were ordering their drunken munchies as well.

I snapped a picture of my friends ordering their food and sent it to my roommate Nathalie who had flown back to California the day before. I texted her, “Takes the cohort to Chill Thrill 🍟🍟 🍟” It felt sad and weird being in Chill Thrill without her since it was our go to stop after going out.

After we had all scarfed down our fries, some of my friends said goodnight while some of us walked to the other side of the city center to go to a jazz bar. It was our last stop before we all went home. As I got in my Uber that night, happiness and sadness rushed over me for the amazing night, but also my nights in Glasgow were numbered. The jazz bar was the last bar I went to in Glasgow before flying home a few days later. The next night was a night-in followed by a night taking the train to Edinburgh to go over to my friend Laura’s flat then my final night was going over to my friend Natalie’s flat in Glasgow to eat takeout and drink wine before boarding my plane the next morning back to the US. Each night during my last week in Glasgow was so special, and I’m grateful for my friends who have brought so much happiness in my life.

The other day on my lunch break, I walked to the bodega to order a sandwich. I ordered a turkey and pepperjack hero sub with everything on it. I walked back to my place of work and set it on my desk and unwrapped it. For a second, I stared down at my sandwich that I couldn’t wait to devour, but realized that this thick sandwich dripping in mayonnaise screamed “young person.” Maybe not, but to me, it did. I would watch my coworkers who were older than me eat their healthier meals they brought from home which I can only inspire to be someday.

But in that moment as I bit into my seven dollar bodega sandwich, it reminded me how much I love being young. Just as in how these stories above reminded me.

Because I really do.

I freaking love being young.

Obnoxiously so.

I love experiencing and exploring the ins and outs of my twenties soaking in everything they have to offer.

I love not having bad hangovers.

I love being asked, “Did you go out?” Because that is a normal question to ask someone my age because people in their twenties go out. (I know not everyone, but a lot of people do.)

I love the freedom I have.

I love staying up late and sleeping in.

I love eating cheesy fries dripped with mayonnaise or eating many slices of greasy pizza after a night out.

I love experiencing and trying new things.

I love drinking countless drinks at bars and still being able to walk home feeling grateful for a fun night out.

I love falling asleep by myself to Friends, How I Met Your Mother, or The Big Bang Theory without having to worry about a partner or kids.

I love appreciating and soaking my youth and everything it has to offer. Yes, different chapters of my life had ended, but a promise of a new chapter starts each time. Each one filled with youthfulness, messiness, ugly moments, tears, stomach-aching laughs, and memories too special to touch. Each one contains scenes of mascara staining my pillow, nights soaked in wine with friends sitting on apartment or house couches, a chaotic night out, deep talks, workout after workout, and me being in my feels about every chapter of my life.

So yeah, I love being young.

Thank you for reading and until next time. :)