Being A Teenager In Britain Vs Being A Teenager In America

Maybe you saved enough money from your summer job to buy an old car and spent the rest of high school demanding gas money from your friends for driving them around.

Probably because their grandma had an old Nissan Micra and she couldn’t see well enough to drive anymore.

You used it to go to the big supermarket out of town to get better deals on crates of Strongbow (using someone’s brother’s ID).

If you weren't at the mall you were probably at a place of great natural beauty.

Or the parking lot outside the mall.

Even if it was raining.

Oh, and you got credit for “participation” that counted toward your grade, which basically meant you showed up to class. Most of the time.

Apart from your AS-levels, which you could retake anyway. And then your A-levels, which were actually the ones that mattered.

And each one cost money, and the rich kids could hire special counselors and afford to apply to dozens of colleges, and it was all a great big unfair nightmare.

And once you left university, you probably had tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt, hooorraaaay!

You wrote a personal statement of 4,000 characters to sum up your whole life thus far and sold yourself to a maximum of five universities.

The ultimate thing to do when someone in your crew could drive: Get in a car, hit the open road, drive for DAYS through mountains or forests or deserts, laugh and listen to jams and be carefree.

You and your mates from school would go to somewhere hot in Europe, with cheap flights and a strip of clubs. It was all about getting as drunk as possible for as little money as possible.

You could be PROM KING or HOMECOMING QUEEN and it was all very high-stakes. Even if you didn't give a fuck, you probably still went to the dance 'cause your crush was going and who knows, maybe you’d get to slow-dance with Brett Gayman!

Some people had proms, but they have only recently become a thing and are pretty much a result of us being jealous of America. After you got your A-level results, all the crap clubs in your town probably competed to get you to come to their RESULTS RAVES.

There were gifts, parties, gowns, hats, bands, and tearful speeches. Your friends’ parents all hugged you tenderly, and everyone said, “Congratulations!” or worse, “ConGRADulations!” as if you had achieved something more than the bare minimum.

Then you all signed yearbooks and it was beautiful and poetic and you cried.

Graduation is not a thing. It used to be when you would go collect your results, but that happens online now, so it's probably even more underwhelming.

People go to their local high schools to watch school teams play even if their kids aren't playing. It's a bit much.

Your dad would come watch you if he had nothing else going on and it was sunny. So not very often.

So you could just rock whatever killer look you wanted.

It was all about how much you could customise it without getting told off. Short ties, untucked shirts, and rolled-up skirts were badass.

But in reality they always found a way to threaten you so you couldn't go too wild, and then you had to clean up afterwards. It was mainly to do with fancy dress and sneakily drinking in school.

Or getting a shady fake ID.

Then at age 15 you realised there was one corner shop down the road that just didn't give a fuck and would sell you anything you wanted. Then at age 17 you found a pub that was desperate for money that would serve you snakebites. You would go there until the majority of your friends were 18, then you'd go to Wetherspoon’s because it's cheaper.