365 Days of Beer

No new beers last night, so there is not much to update. Being that tonight's scheduled dinner is tacos, I will probably open one or two of the lighter style lagers that are in my fridge.

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So instead I figured why not take a trip down memory lane. We begin at the beginning, and my first experience with alcohol.

I don't quite remember the year, but it was probably 84 or 85, and I was 6 or 7 years old. My family (on my mother's side) is filled with all sorts of wacky charm. We have lots of characters on that side, and being that they are Lithuanian, they know how to drink and have a good time.

That summer we attended a family wedding upstate in Rochester. And unless I'm getting mixed up, this was the place. I specifically remember two things about that trip.

First, during those years I was very much interested in airplanes. I had tons of books about them, and knew all kinds of strange technical details (...that have since passed well into my subconscious mind) about now obsolete planes such as the Boeing 707, and the DC-10. My dad would buy me die-cast airplanes made by Schabak. One time I setup full replicas of LGA and JFK on my bedroom floor. I had almost every plane that was flying into those airports at the time, and knew exactly at what terminals they were stationed. I even thought about being a pilot one day. I left this idea behind after going through the stage where every young kid obsesses about death (...mommy when am I going to die?). Mine happened to co-incide with a year where there were lots of plane crashes and other aviation mishaps, and the dream died.

Anyways, now that you know I was "airplane obsessed" at the time, what else would such a kid ask his parents to do while in Rochester, NY?

"Mom, Dad... Can we go to the airport?"

Reluctantly they drove to the airport so I could watch some planes. Having only seen large domestic and international airports such as JFK, LGA, and MCO (Orlando)... I was rather underwhelmed.

We pulled up on the side of the road to a barbed wire fence outside the tarmac. I saw about 3 Boeing 727s. I think there was 2 US Airways jets and possibly an Eastern. Nothing was going on. It was the sleepiest airport I had ever seen. I didn't protest when my dad pulled the car away.

The second thing I remember is that during the wedding party the band played just about every variation on "the Twist" that you could imagine. "Do the Twist"... "Let's Twist Again"... "Twist and Shout". So I remember everyone doing a lot of "twisting" on the dance floor.

When you are 6 or 7, the twist is just about the most fun dance you can do, and it makes watching your drunk relatives even more fun. So instead of doing the typical "run around and play hide & seek under the tables" wedding routine, I stayed out on the floor, danced, and got rather tuckered out.

I went up to my dad and told him I was thirsty. He asked what I want to drink and I told him to get me a coke. Off to the bar he went and quickly came back with my coke.

It tasted funny. But I kept drinking it, assuming that maybe they gave me a diet coke instead. I was just so thirsty, I didn't care. I guzzled it down to the bottom, not stopping until I heard the straw taking in air.

Soon after that, I got rather dizzy and lightheaded. I went to the front of the catering hall, found a couch and passed right out. The last thing I saw that night was the fuzzy image of my dad putting a jacket over me as a blanket.

I woke up the next day at the hotel. My mom couldn't have been too pleased to learn my dad did indeed order me the coke, but the bartender figured it was for my dad, so he put a good helping of rum into it, since this crowd was having a blast.

And that was my first experience with alcohol.