Your life motto probably consists of two words: TURN UP! Probably with a hashtag in front of it, too. You’re young (maybe even too young to legally drink), full of life and you still have a healthy and functioning liver that hasn’t had the life sucked out of it yet. You feel so clever when your parents ask how you’re enjoying college and you tell them you spend a lot of time at the Library (LOL! So funny, right?). You’re only in college for four years – maybe five – and you plan on making the most of every Liquor Pitcher Wednesday that you can. You’re the master of double-fisting because you only have until midnight to drink for free, so time is really of the essence. You and your squad have the ID pass-back, down to an art, and your nights probably end up with you dancing on the DJ stage requesting to hear Bieber’s “What Do You Mean?” for the fifth time. You probably drunk text your high school ex on the reg, and you make a lot of friends in the bathroom that you don't remember the next day. When you’re feeling extra adventurous – and drunk – you take your talents over into Dungeon to dance with that Tinder match you got last night, and maybe even drop that $3 for a loaded corona if you're looking to impress them. Despite your efforts, the night always ends with a fiery crash and burn of attempting to hookup with said Tinder match, and you drown your sorrows in a Steak 'n Shake Frisco Melt at 2 a.m.

You’re at the perfect stage in your college career. You have just enough commitments to make it look like you’re accomplishing something at school, but not enough where you can’t go out every other night. Your nights are spent slurring your words with your closest buddies, and if you’ve had one too many shots of whiskey, you might even get up on that stage for some karaoke. Your bartenders always give you the hookup because you’ve grown out of your freshman year self and finally learned that tipping well will get you further in life. Stagger is the place where your inner freshman can still come out to play while still being the place to go if you feel like trying to act like a semi-responsible adult, and drink with some class (aka not blacking out). If you want to #TurnUp, you grab your Stagger mug and you don’t leave until you’re swinging on the handlebars in the bathroom and they all but call your Uber ride for you. But, if on the very rare occasion you actually have something important to do in the morning that requires you to not be hungover, but you want a few casual beers, you can easily do that. Even though we all know that the nights you plan on a few casual drinks are usually the ones that end up being the rowdiest. Yeah, you might be the furthest thing from "country," I mean you've probably never even seen a horse up close, but if it means getting $1 drinks all night, you can adapt.

You’re probably a Junior – old enough to have moved on from the younger crowd, but not old enough to show your real ID at the door. Not that you even need to show it since you’re practically a regular. You squad up at 8:59 p.m. because barstools are a must. You live for Ladies Night with your gal pals, and you always make sure you get a good Insta pic when you’re out. Oh, and let’s not even get started on Happy Hour. You’ve grown out of drunk texting (for the most part), and have moved onto bigger and better things – drunk tweeting. Pub is your playground. You start in the main bar, and as the crowd gets bigger and your BAC gets higher, you venture out onto the deck to continue the party out there, and when the smoke gets to be a little too much out there, you move on to Next Door to drunkenly throw darts around. You’re loyal to good ol’ Pub. You’re friends with all the bartenders. You're a frequent face on the pictures they post on their Facebook. You know how to navigate the crowded deck of Happy Hour. Hell, you could probably show up to Pub in a frat tank and Norts and still feel at home (I bet you’ve probably already done that, too). All of your best drunken stories that you can barely remember happen at Pub, or at least right after you left. Even if your nights starts out somewhere else – another bar, a tailgate, the Greek Ghetto – you somehow always find yourself back at this place. Unfortunately for your latest Tinder match, Pub is the only serious commitment you’re willing to make in your life right now.

Been there, done that. You’re probably a Senior, maybe even that Super Senior who’s taking their second or third victory lap (hey, no judgment here.) You’re at that stage where you’re not quite fake-ID young anymore, but not old enough to use the word “grown up” to describe yourself. You find the words “old” and “irrelevant” coming out of your mouth more and more, and you’re probably trying to put off having to actually adult for as long as you possibly can. You’re over the free well drinks and watered down shots that have more fruity juice in them than actual liquor; you’re just looking to have a casual beer … or five. World of Beer is comfortable; a nice end to your day at your crappy internship. WOB makes you feel like you have your life together; that you're finally figuring out how this whole "adult" thing works.They have more beers than you can count – beer other than Natty or PBR – and you plan on trying them all by the end of your second Senior year. That is, until you're on your fourth beer and realize the damage that four years of well liquor has done to your liver. Of course, there's everyone's favorite day: WOB Wednesday. You can get just a little rowdy with your friends, and still make it home by midnight to drunk eat McDonald's and end the night with an episode of Game of Thrones.

You’re the life of the party. If there’s a pre-game, you plan it. You decide where the crew is headed for the night, and it always starts with Habaneros. Your diet is basically made up of tortilla chips, salsa and BOGO margaritas. If you’re feeling a little rowdy, you’ll even go all out and get a Coronarita. You’ve probably even picked up a little Spanish because you’re here so much. When you walk into Habs, it takes you about five minutes to even sit down at your table because you have to go mingle with all of the people you know on your way in. You’re always down for a shot of tequila, and you’re always the one to get up and start dancing first. You and Benito are probably Facebook friends, and you invited the Habs staff to your 21^st birthday waltz … and they actually showed up. You wear that sombrero like a crown, and Habaneros is your kingdom. Reign on, my friend.

On an end note, I would like to dedicate this article in memory of Devs. Gone but never forgotten.

#RIPFreshmanYear