Monday, September 05, 2005

Drinking Problem

Saturday night I went to a new bar/club here in town with some friends and I noticed that there were a lot of obviously underage kids drinking. Personally, I could care less as long as they don't spill anything on me, but it got me to thinking about my very serious problem with drinking when I was in high school. Now to be clear, my problem with drinking was not that I drank a lot, or even often. The problem I had with drinking was getting CAUGHT.

The first time I got "busted" was by the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission (beer Nazis) at age 15. I was hanging out with some older kids (with cars) in an not-yet-completed strip mall parking lot (there's not a lot to do in my home town). I was leaning against a friend's truck holding a can of Miller Light when three TABC cruisers drove up with their lights off. By the time I noticed they were there, I was in a spotlight. With few options, I dropped my beer and kicked it under the truck. (Apparently, this deft maneuver has been used before and did not foil the TABC Officers.) I was issued a citation for "Minor in Possession," and as I signed it, launched a short-lived string of alcohol related misdeeds. Ultimately, since my Dad knew the judge, I got the ticket dismissed. In retrospect, I would have gladly taken the local governments punishment over my fathers.

My next transgression happened on school property. Several friends and I decided we were too cool for beer that evening and procured some Rum and mixers from the first store that accepted our fake IDs. We came prepared with a blender and ice and fancy cups from which to drink our forbidden fruit (punch). The problem was, we didn't have a place to do the blending--we needed electricity. My friend Joel, the captain of our water polo team, had a key to the pool. We figured that a carefully executed plug-and-blend would only take a few minutes, and no one was expected to be at the pool at 10:30 at night on a Friday evening. So while Joel and others went for a quick swim, I took on the role of bartender. So there I sat in all my 16 year-old splendor on the tile floor of the pool lobby with a huge bottle of Rum, a large bag of ice, empty mixer cans strewn about, blending on high speed when I heard the front door close loudly. It was my coach. He was clearly not pleased by the sight of my makeshift mini-bar. He walked aggressively towards me and said, with severely clinched teeth as he passed me, "You have exactly one minute to get the fuck out of here. Leave everything."

Needless to say, the combination of my coach's personal relationship with my parents, his desire to keep his best athletes on the team and [I'm sure] not wanting to explain to the school board how a student ended up with a key to the pool, we compromised. He wouldn't "turn me in" to the principal to face certain expulsion, and I would--for an entire year--single-handedly put in and take out all eight lanelines before and after every swim practice. I would also carry all equipment (usually reserved for freshmen) to/from games, clean bathrooms, pick up bleachers after events and be formally reprimanded in front of the entire team (very similar to a Salem witch trial). I did this for an entire year to keep my spot on the team.

The very next summer, my club water polo team traveled to Austin for a tournament. It was the first event where I was officially off my so-called punishment duty. We stayed at a high-rise Holiday Inn near the lake. My roommates and I decided at about 10pm that we needed sodas, and because the machine on our floor was out of order, headed several floors down to the lobby. On the way back up, the elevator stopped on the second floor. As the doors opened, we were greeted with about six young guys on their way up to the top floor where a bachelor party was taking place. Oh, and they also had a large gray garbage can filled with ice and a keg of beer.


I don't exactly remember the exchange with the guys in the elevator, but it basically involved them offering beer to minors to seem cool, and the minors taking them up on it to be cool. While one bachelor pumped the keg, the other passed the spout over each of our mouths. First, my friend David. Then my friend Mike. Then my friend Scott. Then me. At this very second, with my mouth wide open, eyes peering upward to ensure no spillage, the elevator stopped at our floor. Now, had that spout been over anyone else's mouth, we would have simply exited the elevator, said thank you, and spent the rest of the evening gloating over our coolness. But of course, since the spout was over MY mouth, the Bad-Luck Gods saw a great opportunity for a quick laugh at my expense. There, on the other side of the doors was my coach.

I have no idea if my former coach is still coaching or teaching. I don't think he is. But if I was to describe the manner in which he pulled me into his room, and then recounted the things that he said to me, he would surely never be working with children again. It was pretty tough. But alas, since this wasn't a school-sponsored event, and my mother was in another room down the hall, he decided this would be best handled internally. Specifically, I would ride the bench for the entire tournament, and my punishment would be left to my mother. Which, since my father wasn't present, was also handled internally (my mother collected things to hold over my head like other mothers collect dolls).

Ironically, these experiences had little effect on my long-term alcohol consumption. I was never much of a drinker in the first place, and I rarely drink beer. What it DID do was instill a deep-seeded belief that I have the crappiest luck of any human being I know. Thankfully, this has saved me thousands of dollars over my lifetime avoiding casinos and lottery tickets. Thanks coach!

2 Comments:

At 7:36 AM, Blogger SLP said...

I always look back and wonder when did the true novelty of drinking wear off? Trust me, I still drink my fair share and most of my nights out are in a bar setting, but it doesn't have the excitement that it once had. I guess once I hit the 21 year-old mark, the "edginess" of drinking was gone. No more high school, "whose parents are out of town" nights.

Granted, I would not trade anything to go back to that time in my life. Things are pretty good now. And I still carry my "innocent" look from those days.

 
At 6:19 AM, Blogger Ms Smack said...

Funny post. cheers :)

 

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