During my first year of college, a high school friend deferred his enrollment to be an exchange student in Europe. Denmark to be precise. He was a smart guy, and even though he only knew textbook French when we left the U.S., he caught on to Dutch soon enough. Not to mention Dutch ways.

You see, when my friend was in high school, he was a teetotaler. No drinks, no smokes, whatcha dooty-doo? He crusaded against these things, actually. He was in S.A.D.D. (the appropriately monikered Students Against Drunk Driving), lectured his sisters and mother about their alcohol intake, and basically was quite boorish when the subject came up. A few months in Denmark, however, killed this deeply ingrained alcohol bias. And halfway through his tour of duty, he wrote me to tell me that the U.S. was fucked.

It seems that my friend had decided that by making 21 the legal age to drink, the U.S. had suddenly become a draconian state of unacceptable laws and mores. A place my friend couldn't understand. You see, in Denmark, they drank beer with breakfast--everyone, including the kids. My friend did a 180 and suddenly, after a few drinks, he was preaching the qualities of drinking with the same intensity he used for his "Just Say No" speeches in high school.

Of course, when you're 18, everything is a battle. Not drinking, drinking, getting laid, not getting laid. Is there anything else we cared about? I'm sure there was, but much of our time in those in-between years (we didn't really live at home much anymore, and yet were almost entirely dependent upon adults for our lives) was spent looking for someone to buy, scamming for chicks and then finding places to drink. Because it was all risky. It was all a huge game.

America does this to its kids.

America is the land of the free. With exceptions. And a few of us spend most of our time dealing with the exceptions rather than the rules.

Of course, thanks to the First Amendment, we have the right to question the rules and exceptions and everything in between. It's legal to talk, although not always legal to walk.

Way past the age of finding buyers and secluded drinking spots, a couple of us were leaving a bar only half drunk--one pitcher down. We were doing the big circle walk. From the bar to a friend's get together and then, later, back to the bar. A guy wearing punker gear (black leather jacket with slogans and chains and boots) and his dog (also wearing chains and spikes and slogans) were walking through the alley. He asked us for change, which we provided. And then something unexpected happened. We got movie reviews for our money.

It seems that this young punker was traveling across the country (to New York, of course) for the summer and on the way he was catching the latest summer flicks. He was very reverent of the new Star Wars (Ewan McGregor as Obi Wan was 'kick ass') as many people my age are--it is our religion, y'know. And he was looking forward to seeing Inspector Gadget later in the year. We gave our review of the South Park movie (go see it!) in exchange and extricated ourselves from the confessional nature of his movie viewing.

Only in America will a young punker ask you for change and then proceed to give reviews of $9 movies to show his appreciation. Of course, he warned us right off--the money we gave him wasn't going for food. What's thirty cents either way, huh?

This is why I'm in love with America. Because even though we preach freedom and institutionalize the brain-washing of youth (everyone with Tommy Hilfiger shirts, please stand up), these are only guidelines for life. There is always a way around the rules. And most of the time we won't get in (much) trouble for taking the road less traveled. Besides, all of these roads are in place. Someone has to walk down them.

I've left a few of my friends to walk these roads. My high school friend who went to Denmark eventually came back and became a completely productive young citizen. He's a pharmacist now, making money off the hugely profitable legal drug trade in America.

The land of the free. Or at least as free as 275 million crazy, TV-addicted, self-righteous, bastard souls can be.

Matt Worley watched the U.S. women's soccer team on Sunday because that's what being an American is all about.