Frankie Freshman Faces Underage Summer
- Article by Kendall McDougal
- June 26, 2012
The beer bong posters had been taken down, the shot glasses packed up, and the Ralph Lauren polos in every color of the rainbow hung up in the back seat. Frank hopped in his Jeep Wrangler and headed home from IU to sweet home Chicago. Well, Frank was actually headed to Northwest Indiana. That’s Chicago, right? RIGHT?
Bobbing his head to the Skrillex booming out of his speakers, Frank daydreamed of the wild summer parties that were in store for him over summer break. Oh man, he could just see it now: Out drinking with all of his old high school buddies that chose not to go Big Ten, shotgunning beer after beer while his friends all stood watching, wanting, admiring. All the girls with their golden summer tans would be lining up, waiting for their turn to hook up with him. Frank couldn’t help but grin at the thought, eyes on the open road ahead beneath his fresh new Ray-Bans. His first summer back from college, he had high hopes. Little 19-year-old Frankie-poo was feeling on top of the world, and nothing could bring him down.
After his long drive, Frank finally reached his destination. Dark clouds coalesced over his two-story house as he pulled up, only to see his parents in the driveway. He had forgotten what it was like to live under a roof that, strangely enough, actually had rules. Mommy and Daddy stood there, waving excitedly at his arrival, smiles spread widely across their faces. Frank shut off the Skrillex and stepped out of the car with caution.
“Welcome home sweetie!” said Frank’s mom with a hug.“It’s so good to have you back!”
“Great to have you back buddy,” added Frank’s dad.“Let’s go grab some dinner at your favorite place. Our treat.”
“Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” Frank thought. He gets a free gourmet dinner of his choice, then he can spend the little money he has left on some Captain and get wasted at his friend’s house on a full stomach. He sent out a group text to his friends that were in town: “Yo guys I’m at dinner with my parents now then let’s get trashed. Round up the bitches too, I need a summer slampiece.” With a grin he hit send as visions of rum and Coke danced in his head.
Frank toughed it out through the meal, answering all of the usual questions his parents asked: How were classes this semester? Did finals go well? How was the drive home? Blah, blah, blah. He nearly jizzed his pants when his phone started to vibrate with his boys’ responses. But that burst of excitement quickly faded when he opened the texts:
Mike: “Yeah man I’m in but we gotta find somewhere to go. My house is out. And dibs on Ashley by the way. I swear her whole freshman 15 went straight to her tits.”
Greg: “Parents are home, can’t come here. Plus we don’t even have alcohol dipshit and my fake got taken last week.”
Brian: “My parents and little sister are making us have a charades night. Fml.”
Andrew: “Sorry bro, maybe in a couple weeks when my parents are outta town. That is if I don’t kill myself first. Being home is bullshit.”
Frank felt his heart immediately sink. A couple weeks?! How was he supposed to stay sober for a couple of weeks? Frank could feel his face overheating…and his tolerance already lowering.
“Frank, honey, is everything all right?” Franks mom asked.
“Yeah Mom, everything’s fine. Sorry.”
Bullshit. Everything was far from fine. Questions continued to pour into Frank’s brain. How was he going to get any ass this summer? Was he supposed to just go to bed at 9 p.m. every night after his parents tuck him in? Why do parents even care anyways? They know kids get drunk at school all the time. There was no such thing as being underage at school, he didn’t give a shit that he was only 19. Now it actually mattered – if he was 21 at least he could go to the townie bars and get some brewskies. But now here sits Frank, day one of summer 2012 back home, day one of sobriety, day one of a 4-month underage hell.
“Hey Frank, buddy, what do you say we go to the Home Depot tomorrow?” Frank’s dad asked cheerfully.“I need to pick up some stuff to fix up the yard. You can help with that too.” There it went. Frank’s last bit of hope was gone.
“Yeah Dad, sounds like a blast,” he said and as he laid his head down on the table in defeat.
- Indiana University