A Millenial Story

They were a rowdy group of suburban kids, though they thought they were adults. At the start of this next year, they will all become 17. At 18 years old, they can enlist in the army, buy porn and cigarettes, vote. But at 17, in a state where they all got their driver's license that past year, there are no milestones to look forward to.

The drinking age didn't concern them either. There was no adult around to care. The house was filled with them because Sammy‘s dad was never home. They often had parties like this at Sammy’s because her dad was always with his new girlfriend. Whichever new girlfriend. Tonight's only difference was that this was New Year’s Eve 1999. There were 14 of them in the basement of Sammy's house. Her dad liked to call it the Rumpus Room when he used to use it to entertain other couples when her mom was still around. The kids drank Natty Lights, Saint Ides, and other randomly procured liquors mixed with generic brand soda. "ABC's 2000 Today" (an interruption from Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin Eve) was playing on one large, heavy TV set down on the floor, and "MTV‘s Large Millenium Countdown" was on the smaller one sitting on top of it. Both were on mute because hip-hop music blared through the silver stereo with the 6-disc changer- a present for Sammy's 16th birthday.

This was going to be a big year or a big New Year’s, at least. They called it "Y2K," which referred to some type of computer bug that these not-yet 17-year-olds did not really care about. They’ve heard snippets in the news and from teachers and from parents that were very vague, referring to computers shutting down, time restarting, and the possible launching of nuclear weapons. Though they use computers for school reports, AOL Instant Messenger (AIM), chat rooms, and games, they did not notice the way computers were intertwined within their lives. They wouldn’t see that until they were much older- blaming computers for their short attention spans, AIM as an alienating precursor to MySpace and Facebook, and the internet in general as a cesspool brimming with predators- both through actual creepy humans and capitalistic endeavors. They didn't yet know that they would be the first generation that grew up with this technology and had to spend the rest of their lives between two very opposite generations. On one hand, explaining to their boomer bosses and parents how to use new computer programs and websites, and on the other hand, explaining to their Gen Z children how to navigate the cyber world safely and mindfully.

This Y2K bug was just another scary thing in the news. It was almost 2 years before the September 11th attack that would encroach on their freshman year of college and stay with them as an ever-present reminder that their world could change in an instant for the rest of their lives. Though the Y2K bug wasn’t an inevitability or a tragedy, it was a distraction, but again, these kids didn’t care. The Backstreet Boys were talking to Carson Daly. Christina Aguilera‘s belly button was more intriguing than the news listicals about worst-case scenarios. The drinks, the outfits, the music, and the possibilities of who they might hook up with in just a few seconds were all that mattered as the countdown started to loom. 10...9...8… They lowered the music and took the TV off mute so Dick Clark could count it down to 5...4… They took a sip of a drink with bated breath 3...2… They look for the lips they would kiss..1...

The room went dark the TV's shut off with a light that sucked into a pinpoint. The kids laughed nervously, and one went to check the light switch. They awkwardly hugged each other to say "Happy New Year," though really they were saying, "What's happening?" Sammy found a few smelly Bath and Body Works candles and lit them, placing them throughout the room. One of the kids started up the stairs to see if they could see if this was happening to the whole neighborhood, but he said the basement door was locked and began jiggling the handle and hurling his body against the door. There was no landline in the basement. The cell phones belonging to a lucky few were just plastic bricks and served no purpose. There was no social media to log onto, no incoming phone call from a parent or friend, and they were met with busy signals when they tried to call out.

Accusing exclamations were thrown around. "Which one of you is fucking with us?" "Come on, be real." "This isn’t funny!" Though they were still all laughing nervously. Someone asked Sammy to check the breakers, and the clueless 16-year-old replied that she had no idea what that was. Some boy started to make fun of her for it. She took it as flirting and enjoyed the attention. Another boy rolled his eyes, found the breaker box, and started flipping switches to no avail. The rest stayed in the center of the room, nervously sipping beers and joking about what could’ve happened. Though they all said they didn’t care about this Y2K bug, now they all seemed so well-informed, explaining what must have happened to each other. Fantastical stories of nuclear missiles and planes falling out of the sky were thrown around as fact. Soon, they started arguing. One group tried to keep everyone calm by saying that this was nothing, and the others believed this was a worldwide problem and life as they knew it was now over.

The kid working on the door and the kid working on the breaker came back to the group defeated. They began to realize they were stuck here in the Rumpus room, and since they had no connection to the state of the world, they decided to enjoy it while they could. The arguments died down, and the group started to relax. More drinks were poured, and they began to have fun again without the TV or music. Some paired off into corners. They danced, sang, drank, and partied for what felt like forever, and no phones chimed or doorbells rang to take them out of their reverie.

At one point, when it felt like morning, one of them let out an ear-piercing shriek that seemed to last an eternity. Before anyone could react, the candles blew out, the lights snapped on, and the TV's clicked back to life.

Dick Clark was counting down 10...9...8... They watched in disbelief. 5...4...They decided to go with it. 2...1. "Happy New Year 2001!" At the start of this next year, they will all become 18. The shriek, the partying, the arguments, the nervousness, the Y2K of it all felt like a distant memory. Some kissed, some hugged, some clinked their drinks together. They ran up the basement stairs, easily opened the door, went outside and banged pots and pans, and shouted to the firework-decked sky along with the neighbors.