Dancing on Strawberry Hill

The first time I got drunk it was on wine coolers. I wanted something that tasted good. Strawberry wine coolers at the age of 13 on a small side street named 7th on the corner of St. Charles while the Krewe of Hermes rode by and High-School seniors who I looked up to sold alcohol from small ice chests they stood on to catch beads. I wanted to drink beer but couldn't stomach it and decided that it wasn't so bad, that I'd chug beer someday, and this small glass bottle of red 'juice' would be my real gateway drug. I spent about thirty dollars and bought six for myself, thinking it was a steal, and shared one with a girl I liked and we drank and our lips were red and when we kissed my friends cheered as they were equally girl-drink drunk and I remember the lights from the parade blurring and Mardi Gras music emanating from a marching band and everyone smiling and getting hit in the head by a large stack of plastic pearls and loving every minute of it. I remember thinking that I had missed out on so much and danced in the empty streets when the parade was over and the cops just looked at us and laughed and we were paranoid about being caught. We went to a house party that some girl from Sacred Heart was throwing since her parents fled the city because they didn't want to deal with Mardi Gras and we drank all night and this was before cell phones so I had to steal myself away to her parent's room to call my parents and make it sound like nothing was going on and that was also the first time I lied to my parents and actually felt that I was doing it in order to do something bad, whilst all the other times they were simply white lies. The girl, 'Missy', who's house this was, came in and laughed and told me she was wasted and she was sixteen and she grabbed me and asked me who I was and I lied and told her I was 'Alex' and she said she heard about me and kissed me. My eyes were wide open and she noticed and asked why I had kept them open so I immediately closed them and we kissed again and right when our tongues touched I felt her fall on the bed and she passed out. I left her there, after putting her head on a pillow and her feet on the bed and couldn't find anyone that cared and someone had broken into her father's liquor cabinet and, yes, things had gotten out of hand and my world was spinning. I found my friend, 'Nathan', and he had puked on his starched polo shirt and his dockers and since it was a deep shade of red he thought he puked up blood and freaked out and some high-school kids had to convince him it was wine cooler and we left. I took a street car home and my parents knew I was drunk but didn't say anything and I know now it was because they knew I'd be able to take care of myself. But sometimes I wish they had said something, not because of who I've become, but because maybe it would have made me feel they cared more about me more back then. Or maybe because the guilt of my lie had followed me home. I know I wasn't getting drunk to get my parent's attention, as a therapist would later try to make me believe. I was getting drunk because it was cool, and maybe that was the same thing, in relation to my peers, but it was a lot more fun than anything else people do to get attention. I don't see therapists anymore...I think I know about me more than they do.

Comments

[nikola1tesla]

YOU * ARE * SO * COOL!!

Gorgeous post.

By the way-- Now that I'm off probation & thoroughly done with the illegal shit, I've got some very nice wine coolers chilling in the fridge with your name on them, & a whole bunch of plastic beads I could slap you with. ;)

I think you know alot about yourself as well.
Can a person drink, do drugs constantly, not become addicted, party like you do and still come out of it perfectly fine? Some can I think.
I think if you have your head on straight it helps. Screwed up folks to begin with....wind up getting even more screwed up.
Some survive.
Like Keith. Ha. Then there's Ozzy.
I suppose this is the first generation that will make it to old age and can prove wheither it can be done or not.

Interesting.
I know I wouldn't trade high flying days for anything. Having children stops that. That's a woman's saving grace.
What's a man's?

Later

Sass

Ah, the strawberry stuff. We had something called Strawberry Angel, bad super-sweet Canadian sparkling wine flavored with strawberry and that left you with two hangovers. One from the alcohol, the other from the sugar. Smuggled onto the bus for school ski trips. The idea seemed much less appealing after a boy in my class, one of the super-jocks, had a ski accident while drunk. He's been in a wheelchair ever since.

I have often thought about the attraction of alcohol and have come to the conclusion that the attitude that the law has towards it has a great deal to do with it's being "cool" when you are a teen. That "rite of passage" into adulthood, and how on one's 18th (or whatever the legal drinking age is locally) birthday, one goes to the bar and gets shitfaced. Later, the weekends consist of going to the bar with friends and getting shitfaced. When I still lived in Canada, way back when, I managed restaurants and most of my friends were in the hospitality industry as well. The last time that I went back, I headed our for dinner to a spot that I used to run almost a decade and a half ago. There at the bar, in the EXACT same spots as the last time that I had seen them several years before that, were two of the regulars. Still alone, still no wife/girlfriend, and still not understanding that one's social life should consist of more than being close friends with the bartender. It was pretty sad and I felt like smacking both of them over the head and telling them to find something else to do with their spare time than warming a bar stool.

Sass, I would have to agree with you over the children remark. As for the saving grace for a man, I would say that it is a woman, one who accepts them as they are, and gives them the desire to be a "hero" to that person, if you know what I mean. It's pretty hard to look like a hero when you're staggering around, or passed out on the couch, and the person that you want to be perfect for tells you that she likes you better when you are sober and yourself.

Script Girl sounded promising in this regard Rocker. If you ever ask her out, maybe try to do something normal like a movie followed by dinner, perhaps a digestive or two in some cool little jazz bar (or whatever kind of music that you like) and where you are not going to run into a bunch of your friends who will soon have you doing lines of coke. Then kiss her goodnight like a gentleman instead of sleeping with her on the first date. In a world where it seems that most men feel that you "owe" them if they have spent more than $100 on dinner, you will have just given yourself a big push in the "hero" direction.

[Col Mustard]

They called it "Boones" in my neck of the woods. Sold it at the "O" riginal pizza shop on the corner. Many flavors but would turn your teeth different colors just the same. We had this Korean place down in some basement that would sell 40's sans id, appropriately enough it was called "Winners".

[ETS]

Terrific post, Rocker! Brought back some...interesting..memories!