As most of us do, I have many wonderful memories of the Fourth of July. This one comes from a time my friends and I were convinced we were adults, miniature in stature, but still adults. To prove it to ourselves and others, we needed to do what grown-ups do- drink alcohol!
None of us felt we could pass for 21 years old, as we had just graduated from 8th grade. With this small problem we started polling older siblings to find a reliable purchasing agent. This position would require the candidate be a person of questionable character, be 21 years of age or older- or be able to acquire alcoholic beverages in some way, be willing to do the job for free, or near free and most importantly; the candidate would need to be able to keep this secret from the parents of any and all of the participants.
We found our agent. I will keep his name to myself even though the statute of limitations has long expired on his illegal deed.
The four of us approached the venue, a local park that had a (What we considered) gigantic sledding hill. We came in from a prairie lot across the street, holding our paper bags that held the bottles. Our drink of choice was BOONES FARM WINE, I chose strawberry. As I recall the other choices were cherry and apple. The scariest part, for me, was when we first came up to adults with our paper bags. I, in my adolescent mind, was sure the first adult we saw you call the Po-Po and we’d be busted.
We walked past a few families and the moms and dads paid some attention to us, but they did not present a threat to our freedom, or our wine!
My confidence grew as the night went on. When the fireworks were over, we got word that a friend that lived nearby was having a party.
We went there and added tap beer to our wine high. I was having a great time until I noticed one of our four members had gone outside a few times and was overdue to return from his last trip. I went outside and found him throwing up on my friend’s patio furniture. I went back in and warned my friend then, with his blessing, got the remaining two in our group to help carry Danny home.
Danny was loudly explaining how he wasn’t drunk and required another beer. He quieted down when he passed out.
We played a form of ding-dong ditch with his mother when we laid him on the front porch, rang the bell and ran- as best we could. I tripped and fell over our friend Gary and was lying in the front yard when Danny’s large, sometimes mean, Italian mother answered the call. It sounded like she let out a muffled laugh, looked up in my direction, then let out a knowing laugh and carried Danny into the house.
We all ran home. I didn’t sleep at all. I couldn’t. I was just lying in bed waiting for the phone to ring so Danny’s mother could explain how they were at the hospital having Danny’s stomach pumped, or he had thrown up all over her new carpeting, or something worse!
Danny called me later in the morning on July 5th. He said his mother didn’t say anything specifically about the previous night, but did make several vague references to drunken teens and the danger of underage drinking in front of his father.
I considered that as my first “grown up” 4th of July celebration. Later, I started remembering it as a lucky escape after a really stupid field trip to drunkenness!!
Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment, perhaps a similar experience?
Phil