When you’re not 21, it’s great to drink because you’re not allowed to. You’re a rebel: you gotta get a fake I.D., you gotta find a place to drink it, you gotta sneak in drunk. And if you get away with all that, you’re laying in bed, your heart’s pounding, you got vomit on your chin. You’re like, ‘I’m a rebel!’ And you are. You’re cool.