My Quarter Life Crisis at a Rare Blue Moon Happy Hour

Photography by Trev Fenner

The lighting in the bar was perfectly dim for a Friday night, hiding every outlandish thought I had floating along my fuzzy mind. Fuzzy because I was deep into my 32 oz. Blue Moon. And when you sip a Blue Moon in less than fifteen minutes after forgetting to eat all day–something magic happens. I was sitting with one of my most fabulous of friends. . .the kind of friend you can relate to 100%. Same relationship status, same occupation, same morals, same dreams. Same undeniable love for happy hour and that fuzzy feeling in your throat after a sip of tap beer.

We were talking dramatically about our lives. The conversation started fresh while our minds were clear and we were authentically happy to be out.

I love our lives. We are saving money and being smart by living at home. We are single and excited to be independent-who needs a guy anyway? We are fabulous just as we are! We are funny and sweet, honest and – isn’t it fun to be 20-something! Nobody can really stop us, we can do whatever we want with our lives! Time is the essence! 

Then. We finished our beers–size of our heads. Stared at each other with starry eyes. Our arms sat lazily at our sides and our minds were essentially, loose and free. We started to get irrational and worried with our conversation. Insecurities started seeping into our war zone of hopeful thoughts. And we kept talking about our lives.

So and so didn’t text me back after I apologized for hurting his feelings. We need to make an itinerary of things we want to accomplish by the end of this month. Do you think we could publish our own book and pull a loan out for an editor? I’m thinking about going blonde again. I think I over-drafted on my bank account because I don’t make enough money and now I’m using my credit card for another brew. I paid $700 in loans this month. I don’t make nearly enough money. I’m tired of living at home. I want to be more independent. Oh my gosh. I’m all alone and I live in my parent’s basement. I’m actually panicking right now. I think. I think this is a panic attack.

Then our talking paused and we reviewed our words silently. And I sh*t you not, I started to tear up in the middle of the bar. I wish I were kidding. I wish I weren’t such an emotional wreck of a hot mess 24-year-old. But we sat there, looking at each other with thick watery eyes and started CRYING.

Ok, not openly ugly crying. But enough to make the executive decision to leave. We ran to my car and dove in. That’s when the tears came like a hurricane.

“OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M CRYING,” we both yelled into each other’s faces. “HUG ME PLEASE.”

So we hugged and rocked back and forth. This pathetic flood post college had never hit me this hard. I couldn’t believe I was sitting in my car after happy hour bawling like I had in Toys R’ Us when my mom told me I couldn’t buy another creepy stuffed animal. And we were CRYING. I’m not just saying a few tears. This was two grown woman hiccuping in a car, holding each other.

Needless to say, I drove home after we laughed hysterically at our break down. I scooped up a bunch of snow and literally rubbed it all over my face to stop the under-eye swelling from the salty hot mess of tears. We decided everything was going to be OK. Sometimes, vulnerability takes charge and little flecks of insecurity will get the best of you. The fear of the unknown (what does my future entail) absolutely throws people our age for a loopty loop. And dealing with it in tears, isn’t always a bad thing.

I’m telling this embarrassing story for a reason. And it’s for the likelihood of all 20-somethings. If you need to have a good cry with your best friend in public. Let it be. Life will get figured out eventually. And there is nothing wrong with that.

This post was derived from my author archives at

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Categories: Life & Happiness


University of Saint Thomas graduate. Minnesota-bred and happy to talk about the weather any time you’d like! Strongly believes any situation can be bettered by a slice of generously buttered toast or Phil Dunphy. Would get arrested to touch Justin Timberlake’s face. Always trying to be a better person by not wishing horrible karma on people driving slow in the fast lane. Hear more: @twitter @instagram


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