I was lying awake in bed last night, trying to fall asleep, when I realized that today I begin the final 10 days of my twenties. And I came up with an idea.

Over the next 10 days, I’m going to present the Ten Most Memorable Events of My Twenties.

I’d been trying to find some way to quantify this past decade, to look back on it, to take stock of it — some way to metaphorically pinch myself and say, “Yes, it actually happened. I really did stuff. It wasn’t all a big waste of time.”

The events will be a mix of milestones, personal accomplishments, happy moments, perhaps a sad moment or two, but they’re all going to be things that, for me, epitomized some part of my twenties. I’ve come up with a bunch of things, and I’m going to try to move from least to most important. Taken together, I hope they’ll paint a broad portrait of the decade of my life that’s ending.

And now I begin.

The Ten Most Memorable Events of My Twenties

10. The Virginia Glee Club Tour of the Northeast
March 10-19, 1994
Age: 20

In the fall of my third year of college at the University of Virginia, I finally joined the Virginia Glee Club. I’d seen the group’s Christmas Concert the previous winter, and I knew right away that I wanted to be a part of them. But when I came back from winter break, I didn’t audition because I thought I’d be too busy with my classwork. Big mistake. I learned my lesson, though, and the following fall, I finally tried out.

Being in the 50-man Glee Club was a life-changing experience for me; it was the first time I’d ever felt like one of the guys. I’d never rushed any fraternities at UVa, but the all-male Glee Club had a house, threw parties, went on “rolls” (road trips), and sang amazing music to boot. I truly felt like I belonged there.

During my first year in the group, we went on a spring break tour of the Northeast. It was my first extended tour with the Glee Club. We left Charlottesville the Thursday night before break and came back the following Saturday night. First we went to Knoxville, Tennessee (uh, technically not in the Northeast), to sing at the American Choral Directors’ Association’s annual convention. From there we went up to South Hadley, Massachusetts to sing with Mount Holyoke, and then on to Stamford, Hartford, Boston, Torrington, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington. We travelled everywhere on a chartered bus; it was owned by Luxury United Vacations, so we called it the Luv Bus.

It was only a 10-day tour, but it felt like a month. We spent nearly every waking hour together; we spent endless hours on the bus, playing spades, getting drunk, sleeping, watching movies, causing mayhem. We sang beautiful concerts in some acoustically sublime venues. We made fun of Mt. Holyoke’s choral conductor, who looked like Ned Flanders. We streaked Harvard Yard in the snow.

When we finally returned to Charlottesville the following Saturday night, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like ages since I’d had a care in the world. Because for that week and a half, real life had ceased to exist. These men had become my life.

More importantly, they had become my brothers.