My first beer…
Every man has a rite of passage. First girl he ever kisses, first beer, first cigarette, first time he got a bra off successfully without the girl helping...
I still remember my first beer. Fittingly it was during my “exile” period when my family sent me back to Canada. Out in the boonies with my Uncles and cousin, knocking back my first beer and working on a shelled out corvette I still remember it to this day. Labatt’s Blue Label beer. Still cold in my shaky 16 year old hands…Saluting my good cousin Travis James with his worldly 14 year old cocksure attitude as he knocked back 2 to my 1. The kid could and still can drink with the best of them.
My virgin mouth slowly savoring the amber liquor of the Gods, as they say in some cultures. The immediate rush of aroma and faint watered down flavor. The cold beer hit my virgin tongue and virgin stomach like a freight train through an avalanche. It’s always amazing when that first drink is sufficient enough to not only put you on your ass but to put you on your back as well. (I’ve gotten better at it since then) I still recall the rest of that day as a blur. My head spinning, my body turning and my young-self doing his best to remember to stand up straight. To call myself a lightweight would be an insult to lightweights. I still remember my attempt at downing a second laughably ending up down the front of my shirt…I’m sure no one noticed…
Looking back at that particular rite of passage I remember the feeling of floating, of the dizzying heights the forbidden fruit could provide in a single bottle. Understanding that these feelings can cause problems if we allow them to overtake us. That self imposed realization that limits still need to be set.
I think that’s the way most habits (good and bad start) I still drink because none of my beers since then has ever had that same effect. I want to recreate and remember that first time. Like that girl smiling forever young and vibrant innocent of life’s unkind virtue. Or that first smoke curling in those pink unpolluted lungs, or that look of complete horror when you “accidentally” ripped a $200 bra in your young innocent haste…I mean honestly who spends $200 on underwear!? No second date…shame.
No second beer ever tasted quite the same, no kiss every quite as innocent, no guilty pleasure ever quite matched up to the first…
we chase those first experiences for the remainder of our lives.
Hoping that just one time we will find ourselves magically transported back to that one day, one moment, one time…
when we had that first cold beer in our hands.
My virgin mouth slowly savoring the amber liquor of the Gods, as they say in some cultures. The immediate rush of aroma and faint watered down flavor. The cold beer hit my virgin tongue and virgin stomach like a freight train through an avalanche. It’s always amazing when that first drink is sufficient enough to not only put you on your ass but to put you on your back as well. (I’ve gotten better at it since then) I still recall the rest of that day as a blur. My head spinning, my body turning and my young-self doing his best to remember to stand up straight. To call myself a lightweight would be an insult to lightweights. I still remember my attempt at downing a second laughably ending up down the front of my shirt…I’m sure no one noticed…
Looking back at that particular rite of passage I remember the feeling of floating, of the dizzying heights the forbidden fruit could provide in a single bottle. Understanding that these feelings can cause problems if we allow them to overtake us. That self imposed realization that limits still need to be set.
I think that’s the way most habits (good and bad start) I still drink because none of my beers since then has ever had that same effect. I want to recreate and remember that first time. Like that girl smiling forever young and vibrant innocent of life’s unkind virtue. Or that first smoke curling in those pink unpolluted lungs, or that look of complete horror when you “accidentally” ripped a $200 bra in your young innocent haste…I mean honestly who spends $200 on underwear!? No second date…shame.
No second beer ever tasted quite the same, no kiss every quite as innocent, no guilty pleasure ever quite matched up to the first…
we chase those first experiences for the remainder of our lives.
Hoping that just one time we will find ourselves magically transported back to that one day, one moment, one time…
when we had that first cold beer in our hands.
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