Lush

I wish I was a drinker. It isn't me. I have no tolerance for it. Never would I want to drink on an everyday basis, but on a night like tonight, I think it would be nice to go out and have something. This desire comes mostly so that my weekends here, not in Cleveland, go by without much thought. I can't help but wonder if they would pass easier if I was in a stupor.

Anyways, this is not an option. I wasn't made for drinking. I blame it on the lushes I call parents. I should have known that this future lay ahead for me. As a freshman in college, home for Christmas break, my parents went to a Christmas party. My father, easily sueded by peer pressure, tried to match the drinking games of his buddies. The result was my brother having to carry my father up the stairs and to the bathroom floor that he called bed for the night. If only his buddies could have seen him like that!

Well, at least I could still get my drinking skills from my mother, right? Beer seems to be a center piece at events that include her family. I am not that lucky. Beer certainly is not her thing. She likes her wine though. A glass a day, softened up by water. Any more than a watered down glass of wine, and she gets really giggly. Like fifteen year old girl crushing on a cute boy kind of giggly. That doesn't seem too bad. I like giggling and being goofy. It's the room spinning and headaches that follow that I don't like. On the nights my mother gets daring and ventures beyond one glass of wine, she will find herself sitting up in bed, praying for the world around her to stand still.

I should have known a long time ago that I was screwed in the drinking area. But, as any late teen to early twenty would do, I tested it. I defied the laws of genetics. I was never more than a two beer queer, but I tried to do it in style. I would sit with a 40 ounce of OE (Olde English), holding it with two hands, and finish it. The nights I cracked open a second, were the ones that reminded me who my parents were. Those were the nights that ended like my father's Christmas party.

Now a days, I am worse than a two beer queer. You probably think there is nothing worse than a one queer beer. Hi, my name is Alicia. I am worse. I am about a half beer queer. I am not a big fan of the taste of beer, or any alcoholic drink for that matter, so I rarely even drink that half a beer. My only explanation is that between the ages of 18 and 21 my taste buds and alcohol tolerance must not have been fully developed. But if they had been, I would have missed out on some great times. Times that included dancing on bars, donning Burger King crowns, throwing animal crackers at people, and kissing girls....on the cheek.

With the realization of my lushness, I am not drinking away anything on this Friday night. Everything I eat is washed down with a nice cold glass of water. Doesn't quite free me from the reality of 450 miles, but it certainly quenches my thirst. I just need to be a little more careful about where I put that glass of water.