They confirmed that they have indeed been living it up, standard behavior for a bunch of girls in their late teens and early twenties. The three oldest sisters told me they planned on going to Saloon in Manhattan to watch Monday's U.S.A.-Ghana World Cup match.
"Isn't that the Barstool party?" I asked.
"I don't know," Leenie said. "But the people with the best, most American costumes win a free keg of beer. We're GONNA win that keg."
I admired the confidence in Leenie's voice, but I was skeptical about the party. After all, I used to read Barstool pretty regularly and I know what their shindigs usually entail. Tons of sweaty 20-year-olds, less personal space than a Spirit flight, FOAM, techno music. No, thanks. Also, who really wants to look at half-naked girls all night?
"Well, if you're really going to watch at Saloon, you better get there like three hours before the game," I advised. "Those Barstool parties are always packed."
My sisters sort of shrugged off my annoying-but-mature advice and the conversation petered out.
Fast-forward 24 hours. My buddy Chris texted my wife this:
"this was on barstool new york"
It turns out that my three sisters and their friend Lauren won the free Budweiser keg. Lauren Liberty's costume clinched the prize, but my sisters definitely went all-out, too.
This afternoon, I received a bunch of messages about my sisters' 15 minutes of fame. My buddy Will wrote "Mayday" as the subject of his e-mail, presumably because it's every brother's nightmare to find a photo of his sisters on Barstool. Hey, at least they were all fully clothed.*
*How lucky am I? That was like having your sisters featured in Playboy, except they wrote an article instead of posing.
Anyways, the patriotic quartet's big victory got me thinking about my own lameness. Why had I tried to dissuade them from going to Saloon? It's probably a combination of factors -- getting old, disillusionment with college-style parties, fatigue from the workweek, a case of the Mondays, etc.
Still, those are weak reasons for turning into a wet blanket. I'm pretty sure I used to be fun, wearing ridiculous outfits all the time and partying more often than staying in.
From now on, I'm going to re-open my mind to activities that 19-year-old Fran would have found appealing. I'll seek out crowded, booze-soaked ragers; I'll dress up in costume for no logical reason; I'll ignore the morning with an eye toward late nights. I want to thank my sisters for making me resolve to become a new man.
On second thought, maybe I'll just continue to live vicariously through my sisters' Instagram posts.
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Follow FranT on Twitter at @frantweet and follow Brian Kavanaugh at @btkav