This piece will inform you, the reader, about my first real experience with alcohol. I’m talking about the first time I drank enough alcohol to impair my judgment and alter my consciousness.

Technically the first time I was drunk was when I was only two. An uncle by marriage, whom I shall not name, gave me a sip of his Miller Lite Beer and I passed out a few minutes later. I woke up on the floor sometime later to Richard Simmonds on the television.

Okay, but I’m not writing about that experience, because while I do have a very sharp memory of even my early childhood, that time doesn’t count because it was not my full choice to try alcohol.

The first time I deliberately drank enough alcohol to get drunk was on March 16, 2003. I was 16 years old. But let’s back up one day prior to that. I was volunteering at a rodeo on the Houma Air Base. I had met a girl a few months older than me and I was madly attracted to her. For the past year, I began having an attraction to plus-sized women and girls and she was a perfectly chubby to me. She was also the first “plus-sized” person I ever was brave enough to make a pass at. There were many other overweight women and girls I was attracted to but never made an advance at them because I was afraid of what people would think of me being attracted to such a body type. Thankfully now I just don’t give a damn. I’m Attracted to Plus Sized Women and I’m Proud of it!

Anyway, we seemed to hit it off quite well. She seemed to be excited when I had another worker give her my phone number. We worked the rest of the shift together, into the night time.

At the risk of sounding like a hardcore gaming nerd, the whole experience reminded me of a scene from Ocarina of Time, where Malon teaches Link Epona’s Song. I guess because I was blond like Link and she was a redhead like Malon and we just stood there staring at each other together fixed in time and space. Not to mention there were horses everywhere, I mean, it was a rodeo.

We hugged each other goodbye, damn it I could have kicked myself for not kissing her, but I didn’t want to overstep my bounds.

After the night was over my parents picked me up and I ate a hamburger then took my medicine and went to bed happy and on cloud nine.

The next afternoon I walked onto my parents’ driveway for privacy, pulled out my cell phone and called her. Little did I know, everything was about to come crashing down.

She answered the phone and made all kinds of excuses to break up with me, even though she claimed I was the nicest guy she met. I blame her dad and not so much her, for this, because her parents were extremely overprotective and we were both still minors.

Excuse my filthy and foul language but I was pissed!

I wasn’t only pissed, I was deeply saddened.

So, I walked stealthily back into my parents’ house and headed straight for their liquor cabinet.

All I could find was a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Jackpot!” I thought to myself.

So I went hide in a closet with the bottle and took a big sip. Man, I thought it tasted terrible and almost choked several times. My chest burned afterward too. I took another sip, and a few others until my dad caught me.

Now, in my early thirties, I can shoot Whiskey with almost no problem (when I want to.) It’s like I am proud and ashamed at the same time to admit this.

I didn’t get whipped, grounded or even lectured that much because he knew what had happened and I guess he sympathized with me.

The rest of the day I remember being in good spirits and really talkative, usually the effect alcohol has on me.

After that, my parents removed all drinking alcohol from their house and didn’t stock it again until I was a fully grown twenty-something.

A few weeks later, on April 10, 2003, I discovered writing, but that as you may guess is a whole other story…

Back to “Personal Reflections”