27 Things All Former Underage Aussie Drinkers Can Totally Relate To
"Yeah, nah I got a fake ID though."
You'd spend most of your Friday evenings texting mates about the weekend.
And there was no better feeling than prepping for a well deserved backyard house party after a looooong week at school.
You couldn't wait to empty your textbooks out of your schoolbag to replace them with mixed drinks.
After sneaking your stash past your parents, you'd wait out front for your deso mate on their P's to pick you up.
Every party you rocked up to had a fridge that looked like a rainbow.
You'd get the party started with technicoloured drinks that were so sweet your teeth hurt.
But that also meant going through the end of party ritual of trying to hide your vodka stained tongue from your parents.
You were a massive Red Bear drinker because honestly, who wasn't?
Or maybe you were too busy working your way through every Cruiser flavour.
But you lost count of the times you drank whatever brand was on hand.
And you could always pick the already seasoned drinkers because they were the ones with the Woody cans.
Some parties you'd bust out the Passion Pop because you thought you were being fancy.
But in reality it was a one-way ticket to Trashbagsville.
The best parties would have Goon of Fortune ready and raring to go.
And even if you didn’t necessarily have the ~right~ equipment, it didn’t hold anyone back.
There was that point in the night where you'd start to ~feel~ it, even after only a coupla drinks.
But there was always that one friend that had taken it too far and was definitely going to get spewy.
And no one at the party ever knew whether to call their parents or not.
Because you could easily imagine how your parents would look at you if they ever caught you drinking.
At the point in the night where the party started to die, some legend that puberty blessed would suggest hitting the town.
So everyone would head to the club and you'd be left to try the oldest trick in the book.
Most ridiculous attempts to fool the "not buying your underage shit" bar staff would fall pretty flat.
And, if you were lucky, you'd make a breakthrough and get served aka the greatest night of your underage life!
Then, as every weekend slowly drew to a close, you'd always make the same promise to yourself...
...at least until the next weekend rolled around.
And now that you're no longer underage with weekend after weekend of house parties to attend, all you can do is reflect on your glorious youth.
RIP underage us.
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