23 + 1 day

Last night was surreal, once I stopped to think about it.  For the first time in my life, I celebrated my birthday outside of Michigan.  Not only that, it was warm.  Not only that, it rained (I’ve had snow on my birthday, but not rain so far as I can remember).  Not only that, we had a campfire at the end of the night.  Not only that, but I celebrated with people I barely knew a month ago.  And now I am 23.  I still don’t really know how that age is supposed to feel.  It’s now well past my 21st birthday, which is an age that just looks debauched, and is equidistant between that age and 25, an age that just looks like if you haven’t started your life’s work yet, you’d better get going.  Twenty-three feels somewhere in between.  I feel somewhere in between.  I’ve given up a lot of my own independence by joining AmeriCorps, probably the greatest personal sacrifice I made to do this program.  I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a step back for me. 

My teammates all think I am sophisticated, complex, and mysterious.  I think that is funny.  Anyone who really knows me understands that while I do enjoy some things that really aren’t typical for people my age, I am really not that complicated a person.  I’ve never been one to really enjoy large birthday celebrations.  So, when it became known when my birthday was, I was a little worried that my team would make a big deal about it.  To prevent this, I told a few of them that all I really wanted to do to celebrate my birthday was to go to a restaurant where I could get a good glass of wine and enjoy it.  While I don’t know if I originally said this because it was what I wanted to do, or if I just wanted to pre-empt any attempts of forced fun, the idea quickly became exactly and singularly what I wanted for my birthday: an activity that I could enjoy by myself, somewhere with relaxed atmosphere, and that would not be a drawn-out time commitment. 

Little did I think that it would strike everyone else as a great idea too.

After traveling for 5 days in a van together, my team arrived in Biloxi, Mississippi on Friday evening and had the weekend to settle in to our new home.  Being able only to wear two outfits for a week made everyone a little anxious to dress nicely and go out for a few hours in the evening.  My birthday idea made for the perfect excuse to do just that. 

In Biloxi, there are a number of casinos, chains of the big names in gambling like MGM Grand and Harrah’s; this city is like the Atlantic City of the South.  Two years past Hurricane Katrina, while there are still countless foundations left scarred and bare as the houses they once supported were long ago washed away, these casinos have been rebuilt and are fully operational.  They are about the only part of the city that appears as it was on August 27, 2005.  Needless to say, if you are searching for a restaurant that has a choice selection of wines, these casinos are where you look.  When I found the right place, I made the reservation for 11, and we all prepared ourselves for what was to be a memorable night.

Some on the team had never been to a casino before, none of us were affluent enough to really afford anything short of an appetizer on the menu, yet there we were.  The hostess and manager welcomed us, sat us at a long table in the corner of the room, surrounded by modern prints of many intimate scenes of restaurant patrons on one side and a tower of wine bottles on the other.  The low light from the few lamps was offset by the three candles that burned on our table.  As the reason we were there, my teammates made me sit at the head of the table.  I was their patriarch for the evening, a position that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable to be in.  I enjoyed everything about the moment, but still I felt out of place.  This was a restaurant for celebrities, for high rollers, for people of position, not 20-year old government volunteers.  Another part of me laughed, simply tickled at the sight of us around this table; no one really with the social grace to fit in.  That brought everyone closer in my mind.  We were outcasts here, playing pretend in an adult world that none of us have really entered yet.  Something about that was as exciting as it was uncomfortable.

Then came my birthday gift to myself.  I ordered a simple glass of Pinot Noir and instantly everything changed in my mind.  It was exactly what I had wanted: something to enjoy and to savor.  It was something to reflect about the past year over.  Each sip was a memory of other glasses of wine, with other people, in places around the world.  The taste took me back to special moments I had forgotten about.  It meant more to me than simply having a good glass of wine.  This one glass was spatial, temporal, and surreal.  It was my chance to think about countless experiences all at one, and to remember why I am doing what I’m doing.

It was exactly what I wanted. 

And everyone else seemed happy enough to share in this special night.  Even if it did mean that we all spent 4 days pay on what amounted to appetizers.  For me, it was worth it.  It was a way to recognize the end of my 23rd year of life.  It is an age that I don’t yet know what to do with, and it is only fitting that it was marked by a celebration that is not quite classifiable. 

It fits with this year.  Nothing is usual.