“I’m so glad I’m not young, drunk and smoking anymore.”  I said this to my friend last night right after I walked into Bar Aspen and found myself greeted at the top of the stairs by a young, drunk, smoking woman.  I took one look at her and shuddered.  I’ve been that girl.

I was younger then, but I definitely remember those days.  It was probably somewhere around the time that I lost my purse with my fake id at a night club or maybe when I punched my hand through a window because I was knocking on it trying to wake up my passed out roommate or maybe it was when I got excited when [fill in the blank] took me to the Hickory House for breakfast that I qualified for young, drunk and smoking status.  Whichever story I can connect to it is irrelevant.  The point is, I too found it necessary to smoke cigarettes outside in 10 degree weather while I drank twice my weight in booze and then went to work the next day.  There was a sense of freedom and entitlement associated with those acts and at a certain age most of us have to fulfill them.  Boy; am I glad I don’t smoke cigarettes anymore. 

Young, drunk, smoking woman or “YDS girl” as I’d like to call her was hopping about in her high heels outside of the bar with no coat on while smoking a cigarette.  She said loudly, “Hey who’s gonna give me their coat.  Come on!  It’s cold!”  I think the poor doorman gave his up.  Sheesh.  I immediately tried to jog my memory of my freshman year of Aspen.  Had I ever demanded a young man’s coat due to my own drunken stupidity?  Oy.  A similar instance flashed in my mind.  Ouch.  That’s when I headed straight down the stairs and praised the Lord or the gods, or whomever, that I was no longer young, drunk and smoking.  Just young thanks. 

Now, I’m not saying that 27 is old, but it’s not 21 either.  A lot can happen in that time.  I’m still in my twenties, but I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of “growth” going on in that decade.  I’m amazed at my own personal growth when I read past journal entries and I don’t expect that to be any different when I’m older looking at the life I lived as a 27 year old.  The learning curve is a little different for everyone and a town like Aspen doesn’t help.

Aspen is very much a campus setting. This was quite comforting for me when I moved here straight out of college.  It is quite conducive to being young, drunk and smoking.  The number of YDS girls or guys grows during high season here. 

I’m not sure why, but the other night I seemed to have forgotten all about that part of my not so distant past.  Until, of course, the YDS girl harkened days gone by with cry for a coat.  I rolled my eyes and thought, “put a coat on, ding dong.”  That’s when I stopped myself and instead of making a comment, just felt thankful. 

I’ve been here for five full years and am in my sixth winter.  Consider me in graduate studies for the time being.  I no longer go out every Friday and Saturday night.  I don’t know all of the bartenders anymore and I’m not up on the South American ski instructors.  Damn.  What happened?  Funny thing is, I am OKAY with that. 

Young, drunk and smoking is a phase you should go through and learn from.  Move onward and hopefully upward.  Don’t get me wrong, I still like to hit the town from time to time and enjoy, thoroughly, but I don’t want to be viewed as a YDS girl again. 

I was her once upon a time, not so long ago, so why should I be so quick to judge her motives and her nicotine intake?  Ignorance is bliss and awareness can sometimes ruin simple pleasures.  With any luck she’ll find herself on the other side of it one day.  I am just so grateful that I have moved past those drunken nights and so is my liver.