I had my first drink when I was sixteen and it tasted miserable. I skipped beer (never much cared for it) in an effort to prove to my friend Andy that I had certainly drank before (I hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t) and that I was a real man.<\/p>\n
I had a shot of tequila. It wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t particularly good<\/em> tequila, but it was tequila and I puckered and grimaced, only briefly, before I asked for another shot. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Another?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Andy said, distrust on his face. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t need to prove anything more to me, dude.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n Give me another, I said. He poured.<\/p>\n I felt a fuzzy sensation at the back of my head a couple minutes later and Andy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house, with its dark orange carpet and cigarette-smoke-stained walls and retro curtains became all the more foreign to me. His dad stumbled in the front door, tripping over their yelping Chihuahua, who was excited to see her owner, and the thrift store chandelier cast a yellowish light over the oily bald spot in the middle of the top of his head. I was sitting across from the front door, in a recliner, with a Corona in between my legs. I made no attempt to hide the bottle as I watched Andy drape a hand over his, poorly concealing it.<\/p>\n Andy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dad walked over to me and I could tell he was staring at my glazed eyes and the flippant look on my face. He laid a strong hand on my shoulder. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s about time you became a man,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said, and a foolish grin spread across his face.<\/p>\n I heard him walk into the kitchen and set his briefcase on the table, his keys jingling as he walked. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t care if Andy drinks,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he continued, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153as long as it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s in the presence of me. I just don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want him drinking with strangers.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n I looked at Andy, sitting on the couch to my left, as he removed his hand from his beer, smiled at me, his teeth jutting out past his top lip, and took a swig of his beer.<\/p>\n I wanted more. I wanted to feel more hands resting heavily on my shoulder, hands that said to me that they accepted what I was, and if that meant slinging a few more beers back, then so be it.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n I sat in the back of Ms. Wheeler\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s pre-calculus class and my heart was pounding so hard against my sternum that I suspected it would only be a matter of time before my chest burst open. I leaned over as Ms. Wheeler continued to drone on and one about something we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d already learned and quietly unzipped my backpack, pulling out my cross country water bottle, that plastic red bottle that everyone in our school used to see us tote around. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153DRINK WATER ALL DAY<\/em>,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Coach Andrade would say and we obliged; we became known as the kids who carried those bottles around to every class, sipping tiny drinks from time to time. (Conversely, you knew who the wrestlers were because they were the ones who spent the entire class spitting into Arrowhead water bottles, desperate to shed that extra pound.)<\/p>\n Drink now. Drink now. No one is looking. Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t make a sound. Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t make any sound and no one will notice you.<\/p>\n Sip.<\/p>\n It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fine, you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve taken a drink and no one looked and you can feel it coursing down your throat and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s coating your stomach and you can feel the warmth inside and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s like nothing you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve ever known in your life. Until recently and it feels good, so you keep going. Keep going. Take another drink and then your thoughts won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be as sharp and abrasive and you can concentrate and this is what will make you a man.<\/p>\n It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s been five minutes. Drink again. Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stop. Wait. No. You have to stop or people will start to notice and they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll get curious. They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll start talking behind your back about how you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re secretly an alcoholic and what will the Cross Country team think? What will his AP teachers think? What will the journalism staff think if they knew Mark was a drunk?<\/p>\n Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Just pay attention and be calm. Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.<\/p>\n Sip.<\/p>\n It tastes awful and it burns but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s worth it. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s worth it if people smile when they see me and if I feel ok in my head while I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m awake.<\/p>\n I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m calm.<\/p>\n Sip.<\/p>\n I feel calm.<\/p>\n Sip.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n You become pretty dedicated when your substance abuse combines with shame. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know the man that David Foster Wallace writes about in this next segment of Infinite Jest<\/em>, but I know how addiction can manipulate your thoughts, arching gently towards paranoia and terror, and controlling every day routines to the point of absurdity.<\/p>\n I wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t an alcoholic for long, just a year. I had a pretty terrible final binge my senior year and there is a huge block of time I have never been able to remember. The scariest part of it all is that I kept my drinking private: I was so desperate to fit in, yet so terrified of it backfiring that I kept it to myself. (LOL MY BRAIN IS AWESOME GUISE. Also I still made valedictorian while drunk for a year WHAT WHAT.)<\/p>\n I have not the slightest idea what is going on. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know how this second character relates to Hal. What I do know is that the ferocity and accuracy with which Wallace uses to narrate as this second man terrified me because I knew exactly<\/em> what that experience was. From the way I organized rituals to my drinking to the constant shame and hatred I felt for the act to the unbearable and bizarre standard I held other people to: I know it.<\/p>\n I am very pleased with this book so far.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I had my first drink when I was sixteen and it tasted miserable. I skipped beer (never much cared for it) in an effort to prove to my friend Andy that I had certainly drank before (I hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t) and that … Continue reading