My little brother got drunk for the first time at the age of three. I’m not lying. He was three years old when he discovered how to use the plastic opener on the wine cask. The adults were having a get‑together and not once did they question why he was continuously going back and forth to the fridge. After a little while he became unable to walk straight and started throwing up. I can’t remember exactly how the adults realised he was intoxicated, but they rushed him to the hospital. Apparently they were asked a heap of questions and CPS wanted to know whether it had been my parents who were giving him the wine. Let’s face it… it didn’t look good. In the end they were cleared of any wrongdoing and allowed to go home. I’m not sure if my brother was hungover the following day. At least he didn’t go out and drink drive.
I was a late bloomer compared to my brother. I must have been around thirteen, though I’m not entirely sure of the exact age. My first drinks were Sub Zeros — I don’t think they’re around anymore. It happened at my mum’s fortieth birthday party. There were vodka premixed bottles on the table and, because they looked fancy, I decided to help myself. I can’t recall the precise amount, but it was probably two or three. I drank enough to realise I liked the way it made me feel; in that moment I remember thinking, “This is what I’ve been missing,” and “I’m going to do this for the rest of my life.” I couldn’t have had too much, though, because I played golf the next day without any hangover symptoms.
If only I could have warned my younger self not to pick up that first bottle. Who would have thought that this seemingly harmless liquid could lead to so many problems later on. Who could have imagined I would end up charged with a DUI, face two stints in rehab, endure countless run-ins with the police, and eventually be diagnosed with kidney disease at 43. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would never drink, never do drugs, and never smoke cigarettes — not even try them once.
They say ‘broccoli’ is a gateway vegatable. It really isn’t — that role usually falls to alcohol. I never mixed substances while I was high on broccoli, but when I drank I would swallow nearly anything put in front of me. I wasn’t a heavy drug user, though I knew enough to get by, and I never developed a true dependency on any substance. It was mostly teenage curiosity driving me to try everything once, and try I did. These days I have no interest in consuming anything at all. My only remaining crutch is vaping, and that’s a battle I’ll need to face soon. Apart from the vape, I’m now straightedge. What a dull person to be around!
I recently came across a letter I had written to myself, taped under a drawer, and it felt like finding a small time capsule. I must have been in primary school when I wrote it. It laid out where I imagined I would be by twenty-five: training to be an architect, married with children, and financially secure. There was not a single mention of drinking or drugs — those things were completely off my radar back then. I never thought I’d even try a cigarette. That realisation made me sad. I am nothing like the person I pictured, and I feel as if I let my little self down. It’s similar to having told myself for years that I would quit smoking at thirty — only to miss that target by thirteen years. Don’t stress, Dave, I would tell myself; we’ll all be dead at some point, and what will it matter then?