Confession of my first drink

As you can see by the date, my birthday had just passed. It was broken up into two parts because, as you may infer, the 21st first birthday is particularly interesting because it can also be seen as a rite of passage, legalization-wise. In just six words, I can state, “I am allowed to drink now.” With that said, there were two parts to this birthday ordeal: one with the whole family and the other one with just my siblings and oh yeah, with alcohol.

On Friday, after my classes, Ate Sherry, Steph and Mommy and I drove to Kuya’s place. This was the plan: we would arrive at Kuya’s place in Forest Hills and meet Daddy there (he took the train there from his work in Manhattan) along with Kuya and Liz. Then Daddy and Mommy would take the car we used to get there to visit Grampa in Ozone park while we have our little debauchery. We did just that. After our parents left, Ate Sherry, Steph and I walked to Starbucks because Ate Sherry fancied this chocolate smoothie kind of latte thing. I don’t really know starbucks terms. When we got back to Kuya’s place, the first activity on the list was to have my first shot – Southern Comfort. I was so nervous and I kept laughing. I was scared that I would laugh and choke on it when I finally took that first shot. I asked if it was going to hurt and they told me it was going to be like taking medicine – the one that doesn’t taste good. Ate Sherry told me to drink it but breathe through the mouth so you don’t smell it, like you would with your medicine. I told them that I always smell the medicine. They laughed. But it’s true. The bottom line was to drink it fast, and follow it with the ginger ale. I looked down at it. “What if I can’t drink the whole thing in one gulp?” There were no comforting words about this one. Liz started counting down – 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. I raised the small shot glass, which was actually a shot mug they had bought from when they visited Argentina (it had a friendly tango picture on it). I raised it close to my mouth so that I could smell it. I was intimidated honestly and couldn’t do it. “Count from ten, this time,” I said. So they all started to count. As they were counting I was swaying back and fourth like I always do in different occasions; this time it’s to drink my first shot. They got down to 3. Then 2. Then 1. I closed my eyes. My esophagus burned as did my throat. Some dripped down my cheeks and I started to cough a lot. Then I remembered the ginger ale and drank some. Then some of that dripped down my cheeks. I choked up a little, then coughed some more. The whole time Kuya was recording this. I thought of that as I felt a sharp tingle in my nose. I don’t know how they would connect. Everyone was laughing. What a rush!

Next, we prepared and ate dinner: the pasta mommy made that we brought from home, crispy pata and bbq on a skew and a spicy macaroni salad that Kuya and Liz made. We drank iced tea with it. I knew I had to eat somewhat more than usual since I was going to be drinking and you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. BBQ never tasted so good in my life.

Kuya and Liz brought out the dragon berry. “Are you ready to start, guys?” Kuya looked around at us, at me. “Again?” I began to see my first shot as an initiation type of thing. I guess in a way it was. “Bern, that was only the beginning.” Then I remembered how he had wanted me to finish what was left in the Southern Comfort as my first one and then move on to Dragon Berry. I began to get nervous, a little less than the first time though. They told me it was going to be sweeter, a bit fruitier than the first one. This time, we all took a shot. But mine was from a particularly longer shot glass . . .

What a rush!

My face started getting hot but I wasn’t feeling anything I had learned in the past. Perhaps it was still too early.

We played some games on the wii. Steph and I played wii tennis. I beat her! Coordination still there. We joked around. They asked me if I felt funny. I told them no and that I could still think clearly. So we took another round.

I still wasn’t feeling any different – just hotter in the face. Ate Sherry touched my face and my cheeks. “Kuya, look, she’s all red!” I leaned over to Steph, my right hand best friend, and whispered in her ear “why, what’s wrong with red?” She whispered back, “most Asians blush a lot when they drink,” I said, “oh, okay. Wait, how do you know this?” She didn’t answer.
Since I wasn’t feeling the effects just yet, Kuya spun me around. I didn’t fall one bit. I told them all, “I don’t react well to things. I just don’t.” But then I also confessed, “I worked out extra hard because I know that if you have more muscle mass, you can drink more.” I answered my own question, although still unsatisfactorily. There’s got to be more reasons for my lack of reacting to it.

We had another round. I was getting used to this. Steph didn’t finish hers so Kuya, Liz and I finished it for her. Ate Sherry couldn’t drink anymore because she had work the next day.

Kuya and Liz had to buy some more – not that we ran out already, at least I don’t think. I don’t remember . . .

While they were out, Steph and I played wii tennis again. I beat her! Then we played wii bowling while Ate Sherry made sure that we didn’t break anything. We didn’t. We’re still good. At least I was, little Ms. Slow-reactor as I am. To the dragon berry I mean.

While Kuya and Liz were still out, my Dad called me. They said they were already here. Steph panicked a little. It still felt like we just started this night. It was 10 and we got there at 8. I told Steph not to worry – I’ll handle it. I called my Dad (he had called Steph’s cell phone before). As his cell phone was wringing and I heard it through my phone, I had a weird thought on my mind: what am I going to tell my parents? That I need more time to drink and get drunk? Can you wait and come back so that I can finally get wasted? “Hi Daddy, we need another hour because it feels like we just started. Can you come back again? Sorry! Maybe you can drive around. Show Mommy around! Like a mini date!” I said. I decided to be honest, but at the same time careful with my choice of words. Diction never seemed so crucial as it did that moment, it seemed. Surprisingly, my Dad said “sure!” Yes, thank you honesty!!!

Kuya and Liz came back and told us about how they saw Mommy and Daddy in front of the apartment. I told them how I was able to get our parents to come back an hour later. That meant that we had to have as much fun as we could in one hour.

Kuya, Liz and I had another round.

We ate some of the Sun Chips that Kuya and Liz had bought when they briefly left. Putting away the wii, we knew it was time to play twister. I didn’t feel any different from when I arrived there. I just felt a little dizzy and light headed. But that felt tolerable. It was like a minor headache spread throughout my body, not just the head. And I kept telling them that I was tolerably dizzy. I was able to win in twister still. Steph looked like she had enough dragon berry. She toppled on top of Ate Sherry while we were playing.

I put on my boxing gloves. I brought them with me from home. Kuya and I started boxing and he was showing me new moves. Then he picked me up. I saw . . . I saw . . . this is what I saw: a blur of the floor and Kuya’s black socks. I felt a rush of blood going to my head. And then I saw something similar to the television when it’s all staticky, except it was darker and purple-ish. I don’t know if that makes sense.

But afterward, I went to the bathroom. As I was walking there, my legs felt kind of weak but I didn’t want to admit anything (until now of course). In the bathroom I bent over, my palms on my knees and stood in that position for about a minute or 30 seconds. Or was it a minute and a half? I honestly couldn’t tell the difference. I heard myself breathe. My breath smelled like dragon berry. Then I continued with my business. I washed my hands. How about my face too while I’m at it? I did and looked in the mirror after drying up. My face was red and shiny – like an apple.

I’m gonna cut to the chase here. We had quite a few more shots, Kuya, Liz and I. “Here Bern,” said Liz, offering my same long, shot mug that said tango on it. The tango picture didn’t look so friendly anymore. “Oh . . . again? No, I’m good . . . no really . . . no it’s okay . . .um.” I took the last one anyway. I felt my heart racing even though I was just sitting on the corner of Kuya’s bed. As I was eating more of the Sun Chips, I heard Kuya and Ate Sherry talking. “that’s enough already, Kuya. How many did she have? Seven, seven and a half?” “No since her glass counts as two shots, it’s really actually nine.” “I know that, but how? Oh yeah, she finished mine sometimes.”

Nine shots. And Ate Sherry said that people can usually take three or four. I felt tolerably dizzy only.

My balance was there still. Earlier on, Kuya wanted to see if I could walk in a straight line. I was confident that I would be able to still. Or was I in denial? I walked down an imaginary line. It took some effort, but I was able to walk straight decently. In all honesty, I kept thinking how I couldn’t believe it was so hard to walk straight. I had to use E-F-F-O-R-T. I remember watching a show that showed wild police chases or wild arrests and I would see these people who couldn’t walk straight when the officer told them too. And now here I was, somewhat feeling the same thing. Except without the crime.

I went to the bathroom again.

Our parents arrived at I don’t know what time. We were all packing (I don’t remember where my watch went) and getting ready to go home. Kuya and Liz would come with us to stay at our house for the weekend. My muscles were beginning to feel weak and my heart kept racing now and again. We all got in the car and I sat in my usual spot – the back left corner.

Driving home. What a mess that was for me. I had to go to the bathroom again, even though I just went. I said it out loud. “Shhhhhhhhhhh!” Kuya, Liz, Ate Sherry and Steph had their index fingers over their mouths as they looked at me and then at each other. All of a sudden I felt so sleepy. I would just close my eyes and let my body lay on the seat, like the settling blood of a person who had just died. My cheeks still felt hot. I put my books (I was doing some reading and homework on the way there) on my lap but I couldn’t stop them from moving around when my Dad made a turn on the road. One time, the day afterward, Kuya told me to squeeze his hand. I squeezed it as hard as I could until he couldn’t take it anymore. Then he told me how in the car ride home, he had asked me to squeeze his hand. He had put mine in his own and nothing happened. Or if something did, it wasn’t really noticeable. Another strange thing happened in the car. I was crying. Except I don’t want to call it that because I associate crying with an intense feeling or passion. For me, tears were just coming down, making my red cheeks glossy. They were bothersome because I wanted to sleep. During the party, Kuya had given me a small Patrick doll (from Spongebob Squarepants) that he won using the claw in the vending machine. I don’t know how Patrick got in between me and the seat belt. I don’t remember that at all.

We got home. Things only got weirder. My balance got worse and everything felt surreal. I went to the bathroom near the kitchen. My head was bent over the whole time and my breathing was kind of heavy. When I was crossing the kitchen to go to my room after I was finished in the bathroom, my Dad was standing there and said . . . and said . . . actually I don’t remember what he said. Whatever he said, I presented my cheek to him so that he would have to lean down to kiss it, as I mumbled good night. At least that’s what it was supposed to sound like. I wanted to avoid talking. It had become a difficult feat. I kept clinging to the walls and to every corner I saw just to get to my room. E-F-F-O-R-T.

I got there. I closed the door. It was dark, almost pitch black. My muscles felt weaker. I lay on the floor with my jacket still on, my jeans still on. I still wore the dragon berry on my breath. I began to think how I didn’t want my parents to walk in on me and see me on the floor. For goodness gracious, their room is right next door to mine. I got on my knees and then on my feet and I turned on the light. Whoa. Okay, that’s too bright, I thought. Then I thought how things are supposed to seem brighter when you’ve been drinking. I didn’t want the same to happen to me, so I thought, no that’s not bright; that’s not bright at all. But I remained squinting the whole time it was on. I undressed and left my clothes on the floor unfolded. I fell into my bed literally; my bed made a loud creaking noise. I turned off my light. It was pitch black again, almost. But then Ate Sherry came in. She put the garbage next to my bed. And put her hand over my head, kind of caressing it. See, if I wasn’t totally out of it how could I remember this?

She left. A second or two passed. Or maybe it was five or ten minutes. My door opened again. My head felt heavy. Someone came in. I could no longer make out who it was. “Ate Sherry?” I mumbled. It was Liz. She told me it was her the next day. She had come to give me some aspirin so that I wouldn’t have a huge headache in the morning. Thanks, it helped a lot! She said something about the glass of water she brought. I don’t really know. But I just dropped back onto my pillow and she left. I do remember her putting the covers over me. The next day she told me about how she told Kuya that night, that I was half off the bed, with my arm swinging down, next to the garbage. I just know that I was sleepy beyond sleepy.

I was able to sleep for the next four and a half hours. I woke up at 4:50 AM and had to go to the bathroom . . .

I’ll have to continue this blog on another night. I still have lots to tell about my sleepless night and what I did. To be continued . . .