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It All Started With a 40oz Breakfast…
We all do stupid things as kids. I say this more and more as I watch my own children grow up. The older we get, the less thought we put into our actions. Whether it be to impress friends, girls, or just attempting to be unique, when you look back at your life you often find yourself asking “What the hell was I thinking??!” Now, the more I think about it, I ask this question about nearly every day of the year I was seventeen. The day I both started off and ended drunk just happens to be one of those days.
My friends and I got together one Thursday afternoon at lunch, trying to figure out the one thing we could do to be considered rebellious. Why this thought goes through one’s head is beyond me, but it did. After several moments of silence, one of the guys behind me suggested a party. But this party would be a little different than the average outdoor, find a spot to drink weekender. This party would be going on during school hours. As much as the idea may sound stupid, we all agreed and started laying out the specifics.
The first order of business was creating the alcohol fund. Buying it was not an issue; some Iranian guy down the street from my house ran a convenient mart, if you can imagine that. He would sell us anything we wanted to buy, with a twenty percent underage tax, of course, while his partner stood at the door and watched for the authorities. The only problem is, he only sold 40’s, so we had our pick of St. Ides, OE, Crazy Horse, the options were endless. Other than the fact that they all tasted like piss, they served the purposes of getting us drunk on a limited budget.
We met at my house at eight in the morning, just after my mom left to go to work. There were five of us, three good friends, and an add-on because he had more money to contribute than we did. Skipping school felt good enough, but skipping school to drink all morning put a little icing on the cake. We each had 2 bottles each, and downed them shortly after ten o’clock. With our heads in the clouds, we played cards, watched TV, and attempted to play a pick up game of football in the living room. After two smashed picture frames and a busted lamp, we decided to stop. A little after noon, the not such a friend add-on with the cash pulled out something to smoke, and we all confirmed how good an idea it was to invite him.
With our brains both baked and buzzing, I notice it almost time for my mother to come home. I kick everybody out of my house, try to clean up as much as possible, and act somewhat normal as my mother walked in. She entered the door quick, and asked if I was ready to go. After pondering what on earth she was talking about, she reminded me I had to be to work in twenty minutes. While a normal headed kid would think “How the hell am I going to work in this condition”, I had a dead end job working at a local hardware store who thought “I have no idea what I am doing anyways, why not do it drunk?” I arrived at work on time, thanks to my mom, and attempt to help customers in need find hardware supplies I had no clue about.
The four hour shift felt like days. Finally, twelve pissed off customers and three hours later, I was sent home early to save labor hours. I called up a friend of mine to give me a ride home, and was invited to a big party at this college kid’s apartment. Going on hours of drinking, smoking, and needing to go to sleep, I agreed to go anyways. He picked me up, and I continue where I left off. I drank another ten to twelve cans of beer as we listened to music, talked, and just hung out. I don’t even remember what time it was when I passed out, but I woke up around six in the morning, upside down in a big round chair. The blood rush to the head apparently had no effect as it could not get past all the crap I had taken on the 24 hours before it. I stepped over several people who had passed out on the floor and made my way to the phone. I worked up enough nerve to call my mother for a ride, and prepared for a tongue lashing tat was about to come.
What would have been perfect that morning would have been a nice quiet bed, a fluffy pillow, and about ten hours of sleep. What I got, unfortunately, was my mother in my ear the entire ride home. I know now it all stemmed from worry, but being hung over at 17, I ranking it up to pure nagging. I finally arrived home, but my mom knew how much I craved some quiet time, and made me rake the leaves out in the yard. As I stood there, the wind gusting through every pile I made, I thought about my situation and agreed personally that I would never do it again. You know how those commitments turn out as a teenager. Like I said, I was dumb for most of my days at seventeen.
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