Being nineteen years old and living in the “greatest city in the world” sounds utterly perfect. On paper. In reality, you’re out of luck for another two years. Twenty-one is the magic number, but not simply because of the age restrictions on alcohol, it’s because of that law’s effect. If you drink, you drink. If you don’t, you don’t. That is all fine and well, because New York City caters to those twenty-one and over, regardless of consumption.
Since the day I moved into my tiny New York dorm, being only nineteen (then, eighteen) has become an increasing hindrance to my going out. About once a month, I will find out about and get excited for a cheap (usually free) event. From tribute shows, to themed parties, to concerts, and conferences, all twenty-one plus.
The fact that the events have an age restriction isn’t even my biggest issue, the problem is that the events aren’t advertised that way. I learned the hard way, but you have to dig through multiple event pages before you even step outside. The lack of specification is not the same as an all ages event.
Recently, a few friends and I were going to meet up at Le Poisson Rouge for a The Cure tribute party called A Night Like This. I looked on every event page, the venue’s website, Twitter, everywhere, but a mention of age was nowhere to be found. So, we all got ready, blasted “Kiss Me, Kiss Me” and either began the walk or hopped on a train. My roommate and I walked the 35 minutes and found ourselves at a huge, lavish venue. Once inside, a sole security guard asked for our ID’s, and quickly threw them back at us stating that the event was twenty-one plus. Utterly devastated, we took a cab home for a night of nineteen year old fun (aka nothing).