21sts were meant only for 21 year olds.

After the dreaded wedding was done and dusted, I naturally assumed the forced family festivities would be too. How wrong I was. My dancing shoes barely had time to breathe before I had to pop myself back into something appropriate and by extension uncomfortable, and head to a 21st.

Now most people would assume that a 21st would be a fun way to spend an evening. These people have not been to a 21st hosted by the guest of honours obnoxious indian grandmother. Firstly it was due to start at 11am. Yes thats right, 11am. Having already decided that any time after breakfast is a socially acceptable hour to begin a days debauchery, I wolfed down my cornflakes. After lining my stomach for what I assumed would be an endless parade of canopes and cocktails, I headed to what can only be decribed as an abandoned whore house to where the party was scheduled to be held.

Upon entering I knew that I was in for a long afternoon. Instead of thin young fabulous people I was stared down by a bunch of old sari wearing aunties, and their unequivocally bored hubbies. After scoping out the open bar (that was completely desserted as everyone was too self concious to have a drink in front of their elders), I slowly started towards it, tumbleweeds blowing behind me. I could have sworn I heard someone gasp when I politely mouthed 'g-i-n-a-n-d-t-o-n-i-c' to the confused barman.

I was ushered by the 21ster to the '21 table' where 8 of her friends were, as I was not quite young enough to sit with the 6 year olds and not quite old enough for the 60 year olds. I sat at the table catching snippets of the most meaningless converstaional debate I have ever heard in my life. Words like Justin Bieber','hot','cute','slore','matinee' and 'jersey shore' were thrown around. Feeling like the dirty old pervert who sits at the back of the bar talking to himself, I found myself positioned next to a real fashionista. Dressed top to toe in the latest designer gear, she eyed me out cautiously.

RF : Uhm....Hi. Im Real Fashionista.
Me: Im Closer to 30 than I am to 20.
RF: Are you ok? You seem to be shaking.
Me: Its a side effect of old age. Dont you want to get me another drink.
RF: Uhm can i have a sip?
ME: Hell no. I will smack you right here if I ever see you drinking. OH GOD - Ive turned into my mother!
RF: Uhm....Im going to go over there.

Having successfully cleared the table, I secretly sank my final drink and stumbled out of the dark room into the light, and amazingly enough, it reminded me of being 21.