Tomorrow, “E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial” will reopen in theaters across the nation in honor of its 20th anniversary.

At first I was ecstatic. “What an awesome movie,” I thought. A short time later, however, a new thought began to creep into my mind: “It doesn’t seem like it’s been 20 years since I first saw it.”

Twenty years? I felt old. At first, I was going to chalk the whole thing up to nostalgia. Hell, nostalgia is probably how Spielberg is going to draw millions of people into the theaters over the next couple of weeks. I’m not old — I’m just being nostalgic.

Try as I might, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I began to see it in other areas of my life as well.

I was at work the other day and was able to convince my co-workers to put on the ’80s music station. I’m not going to try to make excuses for the music of the ’80s — I realize how awful it is — but that is what I grew up listening to.

As I sang every word to every song, I felt the glances of my fellow workers stray from their work and move in my direction.

“How do you know the words to this?” Carlye asked me. “How don’t you know the words to this song?” I replied. “This is A-Ha’s ‘Take On Me’.” I tried to explain the video to her. “Don’t you remember the video? There’s a waitress in a diner and she is mesmerized by this song, which is sung by the band — which appears as a group of sketches on a place mat.”

Carlye’s head cocked to the side slightly, as if she wasn’t exactly sure whether the crack had worn off yet.

Matt — another old guy — tried to explain it to me in terms I could understand. “It”s not her fault,” he said. “She was born after MTV stopped playing videos.”

If you are completely confused by the previous paragraphs because you have no idea who A-Ha is or were smart enough to ignore most of the music of the ’80s, I apologize. Thank you for plowing through the incoherent ramblings of an old man.

Do the freshmen look really young this year, or is it just me? No offense to all 4,000 of you out there, but I don’t think I’m alone on this one.

In case you aren’t sure who the freshmen are, they are the ones with fake IDs from New Jersey who can still drink the lights out of a place and be up in time for their 8:50 classes in the morning.

I was that guy once.

I remember my freshman year. Sometimes it was so nuts that I don’t remember it so well. My dormmates and I would go out on Thursday and drink ourselves into a stupor. Somehow we still managed to make our Friday classes and later began our weekend by cracking a beer around 8 in the evening. The theme of beer cracking continued into the wee hours of the morning and culminated with a stumble home.

If the Badger football team was playing at home that particular weekend, we dragged ourselves out of bed — chipper as hell — and mixed ourselves screwdrivers the next morning. Somehow orange juice — even crammed full of vodka — sounded like a nutritious breakfast.

A brief catnap in the afternoon (to recharge our batteries) was followed by another round of binge drinking that lasted — again — into the wee hours of the morning. We did this for our entire freshman year. I knew being away from home for the first time would expose my wild side, but I never thought like this. My wild side turned out to be a real badass when it came to booze.

Hell, I knew a guy that vomited into his plastic beer cup, rinsed it out and then refilled it with beer. That guy could party. We all could party. Then we got old.

Nowadays, a trip to the Plaza isn’t nearly as high octane. My night usually ends before bar time and I usually end up looking like a freight train hit me the next morning — damn you, Jack Daniels.

Five years ago I couldn’t imagine staying home and relaxing on a weekend. A movie on the couch was something that was for weeknights, not weekends. Now I have different ideas.

My wallet and my liver thank me, but my badass wild side is beginning to think I’m a real dork.

I realize I can’t relive the past. I don’t know if I want to. Those experiences were awesome, but they were meant for more resilient bodies.

So rather than focus on the past — or think too far into the future — I’ll focus on now, on the moment, on the six inches in front of my face. And I’ll love every second of it.

And I can’t wait until Top Gun gets re-released in 2006.

Zach Fehrenbach is a UW alum who can be reached at [email protected] although it’s already past his bedtime.