Last night I did something I haven't done in a long time: I had low proof alcohol.
My friend JP apologized for her array of non-liquor store quality booze. We gulped down some slushy Strawberries & Cream mixed with cheap rum anyway, girded by the notion that it was necessary fuel for an '80s trivia game. After my unsuccessful recollection of the lyrics to the Different World theme song, JP lamented her lack of a buzz. I concurred.
I wish I could say that I drank alcohol purely for its exquisite taste (because that would make me seem so much better). But I don't. And I have a hunch (just a wee hunch, here) that most of you drinkers don't, too. It's definitely not to say that I haven't cultivated an appreciation for the taste of alcohol (well, wine, anyway).
I enjoy the first sips of a drink, feeling it buzz through my body. [While a potentially dangerous sentiment but obviously popular] I like how a drink or two takes off the edge—of life, living, working. So it was a bummer that Peels and their watery, sugary ilk didn't elicit this sensation. Somehow, all the filler in cheap drinks counteracts the alcohol. So when the alcohol content of four cheap drinks equals two "real" drinks (and should, theoretically, affect you similarly), you just feel bloated, not buzzed.
While the lack of a buzz didn't inhibit my ability to kick '80s pop culture trivia ass, the cheap alcohol did take me somewhere. A land far away, back when I was underage...and negotiating my first sips.
STAY TUNED for exciting tales (or seemingly exciting tales, rendered such by use of bombastic vocabulary) of UNDERAGE DRINKING.