The coming of age has always been marked by some rite of passage. At 13, along with pimples, you can officially call yourself a teenager as you have somehow earned the right to identify with that hormone-ridden, rebellious group. At 16 you can drive and therefore you are somewhat more autonomous and independent; at 18 you can vote, get married and here in the Virgin Islands you can also consume alcohol and go to night clubs and bars. So you are pretty much an "adult" who can do " adult" things. But at age 21, there's really no milestone left.
Today, at 21, the entire occasion is quite anticlimactic because I have basically "been there and done that." I was told I can now run for senate, and well that just doesn't excite me. I guess I can take comfort in knowing that I am now just four years shy of cheaper auto-insurance rates.