My First Drink
*dusts off, and reposts*

When I was but a young strapping lad of 11, my parents decided to take us on a family holiday. It was somewhere in Spain (most of my family holidays have been to Spain, and all the different locations have kind of merged into one in my memory). I was a typical 11 year old - still a child, full of wide-eyed innocence and a love of causing trouble. However, I was becoming aware of a number of things that seemed to be 'grown-up' activities, like drinking or smoking. Being naturally curious, I decided to try these activities at the best possible opportunity, to see what all the fuss was about.

Such an opportunity arose around a week into the holiday. To break up the monotony of lazing around the pool by day and eating out at night, my parents booked an entertainment night with dinner, dancing, and free bottles of wine for every table. I'm sure you can probably tell where this is going...

First up was the meal, then afterwards the adults headed to the dance floor to boogie. My parents took my sister up to dance, and told me to watch the table. Sensing my chance, I checked around me to see if anyone was watching, then, satisfied that the coast was clear, poured myself a large glass of red wine and hid it under the table.

At first I tried sniffing it. Uuurgh, it smelled weird. Then I tried a little taste, and discovered that it tasted worse than it smelled. However, I was a determined little bugger and I wasn't going to let that put me off. After checking that no-one was watching, I held my nose and drank as much of it as I could.

Hmmm...not bad, but I can't really see what all the fuss is about. Maybe I'll have another drink...

After draining a full glass, I poured myself another and managed half before giving up. Deciding alcohol wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I left the table to visit the toilet. On my way there, I found myself veering to the left slightly. It was strange, but by concentrating I managed to walk normally again.

I entered the toilets, and went into one of the cubicles. Still slightly puzzled over my difficulties walking, I unzipped my trousers and started to pee. All of a sudden, I noticed I was swaying. What the hell was going on? Why couldn't I stand still? The harder I tried to stop, the more I swayed, until I had to throw out a hand to stop myself headbutting the wall.

I leaned against the wall, trying to get my balance. Gradually, I noticed the room seemed to be moving slightly under my feet. What the fuck? Had the floor come alive? Had the toilet been hit by a really shit earthquake? This was getting weirder and weirder. I decided I'd better leave this room with it's travelator-style floors and return to my seat, where I could ponder this mystery in safety.

On leaving the toilet, I paused to have a look around. Now, I was quite shy when I was a child, and normally the thought of dancing would bring me out in a cold sweat, but for some reason I felt an incredible urge to hit the dance floor and strut my stuff. Some hitherto-unused part of my brain was telling me I was the best dancer in the world, and it was only fair to share my gift with the world.

So I swaggered onto the floor, assumed my best John Travolta position, and proceeded to dance like a bare-footed mong on a hotplate. I swung my arms wildly, waved my legs around and yelled "Wooooo!"

Man, this dancing was easy. I should've tried it ages ago.

At this point my Mum notices me and, having had quite a few glasses of wine herself, decides to head over and dance with me. Queue me being spun round and round by a mad drunken woman, both of us stumbling all over the place laughing like lunatics. When we eventually sat back down at our table, red-cheeked from exertion, she asked me if I wanted to taste wine to see what it was like. I agreed, and she let me take a drink from her glass. Yep - just as I remembered it. Still disgusting.

That night, when we got back to the apartment I rushed into the bathroom and projectile vomited red wine everywhere - all over the toilet, sink and floor. My Mum came in, shook her head, and said, "Jesus - I had no idea one little sip of wine would do this to you." She put me to bed and cleaned up the whole bathroom, and I could hear her and my Dad arguing about it - he blamed her for getting me drunk. She nursed me all the next day, through one of the worst hangovers I have ever experienced in my life.

My first experience of drink was a major disappointment. It took me another 5 years to truly experience the wonders of alcohol. And it's been a torrid love affair ever since...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 2:08, 4 replies)

damn
i've just laughed so hard at this i've had sparkling mineral water shoot out my nose:
``proceeded to dance like a bare-footed mong on a hotplate''
clickety click, even if it is a repost
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 2:27, closed)

Pfft
My first drink was at 18 months. I would tell the story, but I am lazy and it's late/early.
( Hokerou, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 2:55, closed)

Fantastic!
I especially liked the bit about planning to return to your seat to ponder the mystery but being sidetracked by the lure of dancing.

*clicks*
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Sat 28 Jun 2008, 3:06, closed)

Seconded!
Mong on a hotplate needs to be put into the common vernacular!

Poor mum, still, if she was that drunk that she thought one sip of wine pebbledashed the entire toilet she deserved to clean it up.
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 13:59, closed)