It’s Thursday, Stuph™ date 3/14/2013, which coincidentally coincides with the same date as Earth. That was a fantastically nonsensical opening sentence. I’m not even sure what it means and I’m the one who wrote it. It’s a phenomenon that happens once every day on a daily basis, but nobody’s keeping track of that. At least, if they are I’m not being informed. And everything is run through me. At least here it is. Wait, that’s not entirely true. Revis and Jaded can post with impunity. Hmmm…perhaps I’m not as much in control as I thought.
See, dearest reader, the above paragraph is an example of what happens to a blogger with a severe lack of sleep combined with the intoxicating high of a morning cup of coffee. At least, it’s what happens to this blogger. Be jealous.
It’s been a long time coming, but I guess it’s time to get to the reason we’re here…which eludes me. So I’ll just do the Daily Prompt, instead. Sooooo….prompt me!
It took me awhile to actually think of something that I’ve done a complete 180 on. And then, it hit me like the stench from a dead skunk on the road. Alcohol.
See, there’s this program in our schools that teaches our children that drugs are bad. Which is good. I went through the D.A.R.E. program in school. And it worked, mostly. As a teen I swore I’d never smoke pot, snort cocaine, inject heroin directly into my veins, or drink a swig of alcohol.
To this day I still have never done pot, cocaine, heroine, or any other illegal drug. My abstinence to alcohol, however, was shattered by an unrelenting tidal wave of peer pressure. At the tender young age of 16.
My buddy Tommy’s mom went out-of-town for a weekend and stupidly left him home alone. For the entire weekend. With an unlocked liquor cabinet. So me, this dude named Scott, and Tommy partied it up. The very first time I got drunk it was on Goldschläger. What a horrible, horrible drink that is. That cinnamon burns all the way down your throat, but gets you fucked up fairly quickly.
Scott thought he was funny. Right after I fell off the couch, from a sitting position I might add, he handed me a cup and told me to drink it. I was drunk, but I wasn’t that drunk.
“No,” I slurred.
“It will keep you from getting a hangover,” he politely explained. Or perhaps he deviously explained it. I couldn’t tell at the time.
“I don’t believe you,” I stuttered.
“Just drink it!” he commanded.
So I did. What a huge mistake that was. It was a coffee cup filled with tabasco sauce. What. The. Fuck.
Even as drunk as I was my mouth was on fire. I quickly stumbled into the kitchen and guzzled all the water I could until my stomach kindly advised me that there were no vacancies remaining.
I then staggered back into the living room. As I entered, headlights illuminated the living room windows. Scott peaked through the blinds to see who it was.
“Oh, shit! It’s his mom!” he exclaimed.
Without hesitation, I bolted for the back door through the kitchen and made for my house…which was across the street. So when I came around the side of Tommy’s house and started heading across the street I heard a cacophony of laughter behind me. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face the laughter. There in the doorway were Tommy and Scott cackling at my drunken gullibility. Fuckers.
The night would be incomplete without one more fail. At roughly 4 in the morning I decided to head home only to be greeted by locked doors. The front door was locked, as was the back. In order to get in I would have to wake someone up. I certainly wasn’t going to wake up my mom or my step-dad, so I decided to wake Revis up.
This was a time before cell phones, or at least a time before they were readily available and affordable, so I would have to rely on my drunken wits. So I picked up a stone and threw it at his window. And missed. This continued in a cruel, vicious cycle for about five minutes until I finally hit his window. Then I waited. And then waited some more. And then I continued waiting. He never came so I had to do it all over again. I hit the window three more times before he finally opened the window and kindly asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”
I begged and pleaded for him to come let me in and he eventually acquiesced. I wobbled up to my bed where I promptly passed out.
When I woke up the next morning I was not hung over (must have been the tabasco sauce) and with a new outlook on alcohol. I could understand now why drunk driving is dangerous and should never be done, but if done responsibly drinking can be fun. Even though I was harassed and had pranks played on me for much of the night I still had a blast.
Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. And now, here at the end, we come to my favorite part of the prompt. Audience participation time! Woot! Tell me, Stuph Maphia™, is there a time when you ever had your opinion drastically changed about something? If so, leave all the juicy details in the comments.
Check out these other great Daily Prompt posts
- Daily Post: 180 Degrees | tel-uh-vizh-uh-ner-ee
- 180 degrees | Taking time, making time
- Why You Shouldn’t Just Assume that North Korea is Crazy | Never Stationary