Standing in the queue outside Zouk on a Wednesday night and watching enviously as fresh-faced drivers jingled the keys of their P-plated Jags and Mini Coopers into the palms of the valets.
At 18, they make it seem like the instant passport to cool is being able to vroom up to the doors of a club in your own wheels.
Friends who offer you a lift home in their cars? A godsend, especially given the recent taxi fare hikes.
And guys who coo "Don't worry, I drove" before whizzing you off to supper? Yummy.
Never mind that we were toasting drinks at the same table just a while ago.
It was only with the recent headlines on young, drunken drivers that I realised how perfectly I fit into the profile of being a potential traffic police statistic.
And it gave me the chills because it is a problem so far buried underneath this veneer of hip that it becomes all the more dangerous.
The alarming trend hit home even harder when I had to wait outside the carpark of a club to do a survey of opinions for a recent article.
My recommendation to worried parents of young drivers: Spend your evening with your child outside a club - completely sober.
Being the only one sober amid a swirling crowd of young, stumbling drunks can really tweak your perspective on things.
As teens stumbled past me towards their cars, I tutted in dismay. Another car of teens cheered and waved out of the windows as their car zipped by, which I thought reeked of immaturity.
I had been there before, but feel like I age 20 years each time I come across such scenes. Why do you do this to yourself? I wanted to nag them.
Drink driving, among young drivers, becomes a problem magnified by tender egos and peer pressure.
Roadblocks don't deter - in fact, they are an opportunity to brag about how to get away with it.
The more safety measures the authorities put in, the harder young people will try to beat them to chalk up some street credit.
But I suppose seeming invincible, after all, is part of the charm.
I also started to wonder: Why don't we have more of a car-pooling culture here?
When my friends and I meet now, a fleet of cars congregates as each of us has become so used to the convenience.
Maybe it's the rising popularity of hard-to-reach watering holes like Dempsey or Rochester, or maybe it's that transition into yuppiedom. Why blow half your salary maintaining a car you cannot flaunt?
In the United States, where I used to study, car ownership was a scarcity among students in the city, so Friday nights meant we would pack into a friend's car to head downtown for a night of fun.
The one appointed designated driver would willingly go teetotaller for the night, dropping each of us off - sometimes stumbling - at our respective apartments.
His role was to make sure everyone got home safe so we could all have another night out - when it would be his turn to have fun, and the baton would pass to someone else to be the designated driver.
Maybe it's time to start making responsibility hip again. Clubs could issue brightly coloured wristbands for the night's designated drivers, so bartenders know who doesn't get the drinks.
Cult brands could design "designated driver" shirts. Knowing that more lives than your own are pegged to your sobriety is an instant wake-up call.
After all, isn't it sweeter to see your friends home safely than to let them see you throwing up in your sweet car?
