I distinctly remember sitting in my world history class freshman year of high school learning about the Mayan calendar and how it ended on December 21, 2012 which people had interpreted to mean that would be the end of the world. I remember calculating how old I would be in 2012 (24) and being happy that at least I would have had 3 good years of solid drinking before I died. If only I could tell myself not to worry, I would have 6 good years of solid drinking!
I got a little nervous. I mean, the Mayans were like fucking geniuses for their time. Sure, they worshiped a jaguar and believed human sacrifices controlled the weather and crops and all that. But their calendar was spot on and accurate for thousands of years after they were, you know, slaughtered by greedy Spanish guys. Interesting that they didn’t see that coming. But this would happen ages from now when I’m all old, thought high school me.
I’ve since grown wiser and no longer believe the world will actually end on December 21, 2012. I mean our calendar ends in 4099 and no one has been making doomsday predictions about that. The Mayans were probably like “fuck it” and just stopped writing. But don’t you kind of wish it was true just so you can see all these bat shit crazy theories play out? I do. My favorite is the one where a dark, mystery planet that no one can see will creep up on earth and release hordes of pissed off aliens that want to kill us all. For real, people believe that will happen. Look it up. And yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing a John Cusack look a like drive an SUV out of the back of a plane, land on a glacier and have everyone in the car survive it. Wouldn’t you?
Odds are these things won’t happen. So I’ll settle for it being an excuse to throw a themed party, get schwasted and wake up on December 22, 2012 wishing the world had ended so I wouldn’t have to endure a massive hangover.