Memories

Time to lighten things up a bit.

I was thinking back to the first time I was drunk. I don't know why. Weird random thoughts run through my mind quite often. Some of them kind of pop out and say "Hi!" This one did. Maybe it was that part of me that likes to gently barge into my head and say "Hey, chill out. Relax. Yeaaaahhhh." Remember when...

I was 14 when I first learned what it meant to hug the porcelain god. Until that time I had visions of adults running up to some statue carved out of porcelain in the figure of a male. I didn't know it meant hugging the toilet while thanking it after-the-fact for being so cool to the touch.

My girlfriend and I, who otherwise had a million other things to do such as call some boys, watch a movie on the VCR (beta--wahoo!), walk to the video arcade or talk about our pick of future husbands and how many children we would have, decided instead to learn for ourselves what the big fuss was all about when it came to drinking. We were at her house and her folks were gone for the evening. So we did what any teen that age does. Search mom and dad's house for alcohol.

It wasn't difficult to find. Her parents had bottles of sour smelling liquid in them in a variety of colors. I picked up the bottle with the bright green liquid. Peppermint liquor the bottle read. It looked a bit like listerine, but the color was prettier. It smelled minty.

After a swig I realized color and minty freshness is not a determining factor in the taste department. It was horrible. Time to try another. This time I headed for the brown liquid. Rum. There ya go. I'd heard stories about Rum. I took a swig.

Whew someone get me some H2O fast! Mouth on fire! Throat on fire! I ran to the kitchen sink and by the time I got the glass and filled it up, my mouth and throat were no longer in heat. In fact, I was starting to feel very warm inside. It tickled my tummy, I thought, giggling. Hey, this stuff wasn't so bad. But I being I was curious and had a short attention span (today I would likely have been slapped with the ADD label), I wanted to continue my exploration into the world of alcohol.

I reached for bottle with the clear stuff. Tequila. Oh, yeah. As I unscrewed the lid, my friend yelled "Hey, I watched my sister drink that stuff once. She called them tequila poppers."

Sounded fun to me.

So my girlfriend, who had been chugging a beer while I explored the harder stuff went to the cupboards and took down a couple of shot glasses.

"Oooh, those are so CUTE!" I exclaimed, holding one close to my face. Little cups that looked like they were meant for babies, I thought.

I put it on the table.

"So what do we do with them?" I asked, ready to go.

"Um, well, I think we put the tequila in there," my friend said.

The two cute little baby glasses get filled up with tequila.

My friend looked at me, her cheeks rosy. I could only assume mine looked much the same way considering how warm my face had become. She smiled. I hadn't stopped smiling since the heat of the rum turned into that wonderful warm tummy tickle.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Um, I think you slam the glass onto the counter and yell TEQUILA. Then you drink it fast," she said.

Unbelievable, I thought. How much fun life could be! Adults have it SO good.

So we slammed those cute little cups that looked like they were made for babies onto that counter and chug-a-lugged. The sound it made was wonderful. SOOO adult I felt. That is until the taste buds spoke.

Holy crap. This stuff was AWFUL!

So out it came from my mouth, much to the sudden burst of hysterical giggles from my girlfriend, who had managed to keep the tequila in her mouth.

"Quick, fill mine up with some of that Rum. This stuff is TERRIBLE!" I announced.

So in went the Rum into the glass then down the hatch.

This went on a few more times, in between long stretches of giggles and the occasional belching, before the room began to do strange things. Suddenly I did not like how I was feeling. Standing had become a challenge. And the giggles were quickly gone only to be replaced by a rumbling in my tummy.

"I don't feel so good," I said weakly, running, make that stumbling, to the bathroom.

Oh no, I thought. This can't be happening. Please don't throw up please don't throw up please don't throw up, I pleaded inside my head. I even prayed to God, Jesus, Budda, the President. Anyone in the position of authority who, in those few drunken moments, I thought could possibly stop the growing inevitability.

Well not even the President himself was able to stop the outcome. Into the toilet it all went with me clinging to it, thanking it for being so cool and well, for being there. And it was there I remained for the next couple of hours, sleeping.

When I finally awoke I went back out into the living room. My girlfriend had passed out on the couch. She had escaped the part of throwing up. Lucky her considering she had mixed hard alcohol with beer.

I cleaned up the mess and managed to get the two of us into bed before her parents arrived home, which they finally did at 2am. I began to think how lucky they were to be able to stay out as late as they wanted. Then I thought about the evening, the alcohol, the spinning room and the results at the toilet. I remembered how I had thought how good adults have it. That freedom to drink.

Yeah. Drink then puke.

Maybe they didn't have it as good as I thought.