It's a weird sort of a birthday, that's for sure. It's really the first day Jim's felt recovered enough from that weird drink he convinced that guy to give him - what was it called? the
supersonic space plaster? - to leave the dorm, so it's not like he's expecting a cake and balloons or anything. He doesn't even remember if anyone knows, if he mentioned it to Cecily or Lionel or... well, anybody.
One foot in front of the other gets him all the way up the stairs without feeling like he's going to keel over, which he figures is a good sign. He's not even sure he'd want a cake and balloons if they were offered to him. Well, maybe cake. And maybe some reefer if Gideon's got some, but Jim isn't sure he's ever drinking again, and even if he does he's definitely not drinking anything he can't remember the name of three days later.
Even without the possibility of cake, Jim heads for the kitchen once he survives the stairs. He's hardly eaten in days and his stomach has finally realised it, letting out gurgles of desperation every time he thinks about food. Eating is a goal he at least feels up to achieving.
Jim really isn't expecting much of his eighteenth birthday. The ability to stand up again is probably the best present he could get.