All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
My First Drink
My parents are very cool to say the least. Every friday night for Shabbat we always have people over and my mother always cooks up a storm. My parents have friends from all over the place, and there is always someone visiting the lovely paradise of Miami.
I was about 11 years of age. I came home from school, as I always did. I helped my mother with cooking, doing the tedious work, peeling, cutting, shredding, all the work no one else wanted to do. When I finished, I quickly ran upstairs to change into something nicer, since the guests were coming soon. One of my favorite family friends arrived from New York. The father was a really cool guy, but his kids were younger and annoying, always vexing me and acted like spoiled crybabies. They always threatened to tell my parents if I didn't do as they wished. I brushed that thought away, deciding that i'll sit with the adults. I was just zipping up my dress as I heard them open the door. Instantly the yell and whine from the wonderful children rang through the house. With a deep breath, I braced myself for the wave of irking and stupid questions, obnoxious yelling, and tattle telling. I told myself to keep my cool, and ran downstairs before the little brats could get to me first. I was met with the loud shriek from the children, as they besieged me and tried to suffocate me with their hugs and squeals of joy. I was saved by their mother, who of course, left such a lipstick mark on my cheek that I assumed it would stay forever. After I escaped from their claws, I lumbered to their father, who, to my utter exuberance, only gave me a high five. Everyone slowly surrounded the table, lit candles, sang what needed to be sung and did all the deeds that were required for Shabbat (a traditional Jewish dinner on Friday nights, no voodoo I promise). As everybody settled themselves around the table and chose their seats, I went to the kitchen and got the first five dishes my mom made. I heard from the dinning room the whine and complaint about the seating arrangements. The children's mother wanted to sit with the adults, but the kids wanted to sit next to her. She carefully tried to explain her honest cause, but it was no use. In the end, the kids got their way, after a very unnecessary tantrum. I swore to myself that my children will be disciplined or else I will leave them at home. I picked up the dishes, and carefully placed them on the table. I debated my seating options very intricately, choosing a place as far away from the evil forces at the opposite end of the table. I was always asked to entertain the kids and keep them alive till the end of the night, while the parents got their needed rest from them. I prayed that wouldn't be the case today. A singing bear on a unicycle couldn't keep them quiet for long. As the food continued to come out, the children, of course ate all the food I like, which was fantastic. I promised myself I would not give into my parents pleas, and allow myself to be alone with the "children". After consuming every last crumb of the food I like, they sprang up, and beckoned me to go upstairs with them and "play". I looked pleadingly at my mother, trying to show her what misery she is damning me to. She sighed, and lead them upstairs to turn on a movie. "Good" I thought, "I have 30 minutes of peace." I turned to my father, who was talking about something extremely boring. 15 minutes later, I was considering the possibility of my dying of boredom. Then I saw my dads drink. I wondered why he drank water out of such a small glass. My water ran out a while ago, and I decided to take his. While he was talking to his guests, I took the tiny glass in my hand, brought it to my lips and took a large gulp. Tears to my eyes, something burned in my mouth, the smell was so terrible, I thought my nose would fall off. I coughed and sputtered. That was the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted in my life. Mid cough I heard my father laugh as my mother gave me some real water smiling. I drank it down in a desperate attempt to rid of the foul taste. I heard my parents in the background as I emptied the last of the water, "Well, she'll sleep well tonight" I heard someone say. When I recovered, I laughed and swore I would never drink anything from a small ever again.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
Obviously this was an accident and a joke. I am not a rambunctious drinker I promise