The first time I got drunk, I was about 3 years old. Maybe I was 2, maybe I was 4, I certainly don't remember. I'd have to ask my parents, but I don't care to.
My parents were nerds; must be where I get it. They were Trekkies and they played Dungeons and Dragons. That's what that night was all about. It was a D&D party. [I used to get so confused as a kid. D&D was a game my parents played, but DND was where my dad worked. They sounded the same when said aloud.]
I walked all through their party, asking people if I could "taste" their drinks. I also stole sips when people weren't paying attention. My parents were only a few years older than I am now. They didn't let me get too drunk, but they thought it was cute that I had a buzz. I guess that night was one of the only sound nights of sleep I had growing up.
As I got older [age 6-9], I acquired a taste for beer and hockey. Dad would come home from work, fight with mom about something irrelevant, and then watch TV all night, drinking.
Sometimes, he would stop for a few on his way home from work. On those days, he would sleep on the couch until dinner was ready, usually after yelling at Mom because it wasn't ready. "Mommy, how can you have dinner ready for him when he gets come, if he comes home at a different time every day?" "I know, Crystal. SHHHH!" [She couldn't win. She'd have it ready, he stop for a drink, and she was in shit for it being cold. Or she'd wait, so it wouldn't be cold, and she'd be in shit for it being late.]
I really enjoyed sitting with Daddy, watching TV. We watched a lot of hockey games together. "Crystal, what do you say if someone asks you which team you cheer for?"
ABC=Anything But Canadiens
Being from Ontario, his team was Tarana and he despised Muntreeall. When we moved to Nova Scotia, we saw much more Montreal games, them being the closest NHL team to here, so I became a Boston fan. I don't watch hockey at all anymore. Pretty much the only sports I watch is the Superbowl.
To be a good little girl, I often went to the fridge for my dad when he needed another. I remember when the twist-off caps came out in the 80s. I would come back from the fridge and say "Daddy, I tried to twist the cap off for you, but I can't." "Oh, that's ok, sweetie," he'd reply as he did it himself. I watched he go through the twisting motion and licked my lips. Then, because I can't lie and I wanted some, I would say "But if I got it off, I was going to steal a taste. Can I have a taste?" He'd give me a sip or two. We went through that routine every time I got him a beer. He would always give me a few sips, even though we both knew that, at the age of 6, I knew what Schooner tasted like, and I liked it. Mom would also let me repeatedly taste her wine coolers when I'd help her with housework like laundry.
How could I avoid the life I live now? It was destined. I've been an alc since before I went to school.
My parents were nerds; must be where I get it. They were Trekkies and they played Dungeons and Dragons. That's what that night was all about. It was a D&D party. [I used to get so confused as a kid. D&D was a game my parents played, but DND was where my dad worked. They sounded the same when said aloud.]
I walked all through their party, asking people if I could "taste" their drinks. I also stole sips when people weren't paying attention. My parents were only a few years older than I am now. They didn't let me get too drunk, but they thought it was cute that I had a buzz. I guess that night was one of the only sound nights of sleep I had growing up.
As I got older [age 6-9], I acquired a taste for beer and hockey. Dad would come home from work, fight with mom about something irrelevant, and then watch TV all night, drinking.
Sometimes, he would stop for a few on his way home from work. On those days, he would sleep on the couch until dinner was ready, usually after yelling at Mom because it wasn't ready. "Mommy, how can you have dinner ready for him when he gets come, if he comes home at a different time every day?" "I know, Crystal. SHHHH!" [She couldn't win. She'd have it ready, he stop for a drink, and she was in shit for it being cold. Or she'd wait, so it wouldn't be cold, and she'd be in shit for it being late.]
I really enjoyed sitting with Daddy, watching TV. We watched a lot of hockey games together. "Crystal, what do you say if someone asks you which team you cheer for?"
ABC=Anything But Canadiens
Being from Ontario, his team was Tarana and he despised Muntreeall. When we moved to Nova Scotia, we saw much more Montreal games, them being the closest NHL team to here, so I became a Boston fan. I don't watch hockey at all anymore. Pretty much the only sports I watch is the Superbowl.
To be a good little girl, I often went to the fridge for my dad when he needed another. I remember when the twist-off caps came out in the 80s. I would come back from the fridge and say "Daddy, I tried to twist the cap off for you, but I can't." "Oh, that's ok, sweetie," he'd reply as he did it himself. I watched he go through the twisting motion and licked my lips. Then, because I can't lie and I wanted some, I would say "But if I got it off, I was going to steal a taste. Can I have a taste?" He'd give me a sip or two. We went through that routine every time I got him a beer. He would always give me a few sips, even though we both knew that, at the age of 6, I knew what Schooner tasted like, and I liked it. Mom would also let me repeatedly taste her wine coolers when I'd help her with housework like laundry.
How could I avoid the life I live now? It was destined. I've been an alc since before I went to school.
posted by crystal at
3:17 pm
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