Back in the dim and distant past, I had an introductory gliding lesson, and then hosted a BBQ with a huge number of mates a little later on (or was it earlier on... hmmm... my memory is sooo pooooor.), my dad being typically great out the back manning the BBQ with a dram in the rain.
Getting up in the glider was fabulous - seeing the route I had cycled earlier that summer with my Dad out through the hills (well, over actually, hoisting the bike up steep slopes in many places).
I might not remember the timings, but I certainly remember the events, vividly, especially watching the tow plane take up the slack on the rope between it and the glider, and the awsome moment when said rope was ditched. The views... the landing....
At uni you'll get drunk with mates a million times. I strongly recommend you do something really interesting instead. My 18th was great.
Who was saying 19 was a bad age? I liked 19, loved 20, saw nothing special at 21, and am really liking 22. Looking forwards to all the years to come. I wont be old until Thye put me in a home
(and then I intend to be a dirty old man