Hot. That is the first word that comes to mind whenever I think back to my first party going experience. The concussive bass of the music vibrated my entire body. of people were all around each other clutching the party standard red Solo cups. My nostrils burned from the overwhelmingly abundant smell of alcohol.
“Hey Keegan, grab a beer and lets have some fun!” Pete Gonzalez shouted to me from about a foot away. He didn’t waste any time getting started. “Um” was about all I could manage. My heart pounded faster and faster as the bass continued to boom in the background. I knew kids from my high school drank, but I never thought I’d be one of them, especially with all the dangers involved. DUI, alcohol poisoning, date rape… the list goes on and on.
“Don’t pussy out on me now dude,” Pete said sloppily before gulping down his Corona “At least take one shot.”
“Alright just one I guess”
There was no way out of it now. Simply being here was flagrant sin and now I was going to dig myself even further into the ground. I hope hell has comfy seats at the very least.
“Awesome! Ok I’ll make you something special.” A few moments later and Pete returned with cup full of bubbling black liquid. It reeked of the villainous smell of vodka. I paused a moment, hoping I would come back to my senses. I didn’t. Lifting the brim of the solo cup to my mouth, I took one courageous sip. Then another and another until finally I drained the cup empty. I remember a subtle wave of dizziness and euphoria, but not much else. The more I think back the more I realize that every year in high school was marked by a special event. 9th grade was the year of assimilation, 10th was marked as the year of field trips, 12th consists of gradation and prom, but 11th grade was always my favorite. 11th grade was the year of firsts: My first time getting detention, having sex, my first summer job, and most importantly my first drink.