Everyone has his or her signature drink. That go-to cocktail that you shout out to the bartender in loud, crowded bars. The smooth blend of alcohols and chaser that go down just right and, based on the amount of you drink, get you perfectly buzzed or have you asking, “what the hell happened last night?” Your drink of choice says a lot about you, and based on my three years of college bar experience, I’ll tell you exactly what it means.

Shots of vodka: I’m a broke college student.

Anything with tequila: I had a rough week and am getting lucky tonight.

Vodka cranberry: I’m a college freshman with a fake I.D., so I need to order something fast, and this is the only drink I know. 

Manhattan/cosmo/martini: I think I’m Carrie Bradshaw in a New York City bar with my girls Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda and clearly have no right being in a college bar.     

Beer: I’m not a regular girl. I’m a cool girl, and I want to show all the guys in the bar how chill I am.      

Rum and coke: I’ve graduated from vodka cocktails to something I kind of like.

Vodka sour: Still a college freshman who will do anything to cover the taste of cheap vodka. 

Whiskey sour: Look at how manly I am. I drink whiskey because that's what my dad and his business partners drink after closing a big deal, and I will attract women with my manliness.

Jack and ginger: If you have the confidence to shout this order out in a crowded college bar, more power to you.

Shots of fireball: I’m a sorority girl jumping up and down with her sisters dancing to “Timber” screaming, “Shots!”     

SoCo lime: Someone offered to buy me a shot, but I don't have a chaser.

Margarita: I need tequila but it is only 3 p.m., so a margarita will have to do.

Bloody Mary: Help. I’m hung over, and the tiny people in my head won’t stop jumping up and down on my brain.      

Mimosa: One word -- brunch. 

Sex on the beach: The bartender is hot and this, followed by a wink, is a very obvious sexual innuendo.

Jager bombs: Look at how much I lifted at the gym today, bro. “Jager bombs!" His face turns bright red as he tips the glass back, chugging it before slamming it down on the bar and letting out a scream of victory.      
Long Island iced tea: I need to be drunk. Fast. Don’t let me text my ex, though. 

Mojito: I wish I wasn’t in a bar with floors my feet stick to, so I will pretend I am on a tropical island.       

Red Bull vodka: I’m a bro who came here to party and wreak havoc.      

Kamakazie: I don’t know what to order when someone buys me a drink, and this is the first thing I blurted out.