LTE: Roaring Twenties? I Started Smoking Cigarettes
What a life. We’re moving out of the pandemic, I’m a freshman in college, and it’s the 2020s. If the 1920s are any indication of how the next decade should go, we’re about to have the most insane ten years of our lives.
But how will we know that the Roaring Twenties 2.0 have officially begun? Where are the flappers? Where is Charlie Chaplin and his moving pictures? Where are the cocaine prescriptions for the common cold?
It came to me this past weekend—Thursday night to be exact. The Roaring Twenties officially began when I smoked half a cig with my boy Jeremy while Fisher played on his Beats Pill™.
We felt invincible. With a stacked weekend ahead and a warm pack of White Claw Surges in my sock drawer, nothing was impossible. As Jeremy sparked up our communal cig, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Dude, these are gonna be the fucking Roaring Twenties.” As the words left his mouth, I collapsed onto the Hardey pavement. I had transcended into a new, greater dimension of reality.
Jeremy was right. Ever since that first cigarette, college life has been absolutely wild. I used my fake at a hibachi place, ripped Nate’s puff bar in the back of Devlin 008, and got written up in some random quad on the floor below us. Oh, and we haven’t stopped listening to Fisher.
The cigarettes have liberated me. I am now the coolest person anyone has ever met. Each American Spirit is a proverbial middle finger to my cute little Nana back home, and I love the new me.
I even convinced my CAB buddy to do a cigarette giveaway outside O’Neill. Get ready for the best decade ever.