Everyone has one of these stories in their life. That first time you got really, really drunk. And its often the first time you drink because you have no idea what your tolerance is and your body is trying to scream “NO TOLERANCE” but you’re hearing “Mmghdhljgljelj!”
My childhood wasn’t as wild as others but it was extremely unsupervised. Both my parents worked full time and I think they were under the impression we were being ‘supervised’ when we went to “play” at “fill in the blank”s house.
So it was probably the summer between elementary school and Junior High that I was over at Nancy Batiski’s house with a group of kids, her age. Her parents were not home and we decided to raid the liquor cabinet. Someone made me a rum and coke. And probably another one.
I was maybe 13 at the time with a group of 14 year old guys and girls. I was too drunk to know whether or not I was the only drunk one there and can only pray I wasn’t at the time. For I did embarrassing things like crawl around the room barking like a dog. And going up to a boy I had a faint crush on and asking him to speak, because I couldn’t see his face (lost my glasses at that point) but I’d know him by his voice. All the while knowing exactly who he was.
To my fuddled memory I don’t know why Nancy and some of us moved the “party” six blocks away to the house of her boyfriend but we did. Once there she ended up in an argument with him. After a few minutes at the party I found her to tell her I felt sick and she advised me it was ‘all in my head’. Leaving her to her boyfriend drama I went to the bathroom to puke. After successfully doing that, Nancy burst in the room, crying and said, “What are you doing?”
I told her, “Don’t worry… its all in my head.”
So she walks me the 5 blocks to my corner… I have no recollection of that experience I only remember leaving and then saying goodbye to Nancy at the corner of my street. I have no memory of getting from the corner of my street to my front porch (about half a block down) but I remember standing there and making the inevitable Pact with God.
“I swear if you get me through this without getting caught I will never, never touch alcohol again.”
Miraculously, even though my mother’s car was in the drive, she wasn’t home. No one was in the living room and I managed to stagger to my room and collapse on the bed, face down. My brother walks into my room and exclaims, “Whew! You reek!”
“Don’t just stand there,” I mumble at him. “Get me some toothpaste.” I’m such a problem solver, even when drunk! He does and (remember I’m drunk here) I stick my tongue out. With a shrug my brother squirts toothpaste on my tongue and I react with a “Eewww” swipe it off my tongue with my hand, wiping it on my bedspread… and promptly pass out.
About an hour or so later I wake up with no one the wiser. Completely hangover free (because I’m blessed that way) I go to the kitchen to see what’s for dinner. I pass my dad’s bottle of port, which I’d been stealing sips from because its sweet and delicious. I unscrew the cap and take a whiff and almost puke right there and then.
I was successfully able to keep my pack with God almost until I went to college. (Hello…Prom Night!)
To this day, wine tends to give me a headache, beer is an acquired taste I will NEVER acquire. 4 sips of beer and I WILL be worshiping the porcelain god. Basically if it tastes alcoholic… I don’t really enjoy it.
Oh and I’m a Pepsi Girl thru and thru… can’t stand Coke.