DOSE:

shots

oral

Alcohol - Hard

(liquid)

BODY WEIGHT:

140 lb

I'm 17 years old, male, in the 12th grade, and do pretty good at school (I get C's, B's, and A's). I'm not in any social groups, but I do hang out with a wide variety of friends: anyone from addicted drug dealers who live in the slums, to drug free, rich, popular Christian school wrestlers, to acid head neo-hippies. I have been experimenting with drugs for the past two years to learn more about myself and others. I only do speed, but have tried a wide range of drugs. Before beginning the body of this report I would like to mention that the time I began writing this was about 7:00pm. Also, I am listening to Emerson Lake and Palmer, and about an hour ago took 90mg of Adderall orally. Also, I wear glasses, that information will be more important in the report later.

(Everyone who is mentioned in this report, including myself, will be referred to by the first letter of there first name so as to protect their privacy)


I have only been drunk twice. Both times were the most fun and worst times I have ever had with any recreational use of a drug. About six months ago M's (my 2nd best friend, a former pot head, but is now clean) car ran out of gas. He called me to help him push it into a parking space while R (another friend of ours who is 24) brought us some gas. It was Friday and I was pissed off about some stuff at school, so I decided to ask R if he could buy M and me a bottle of sigma seven. While we were waiting, M went around behind the building the car was parked in front of and smoked a bowl. He offered me some, but I hate pot. Shortly after he was done R arrived. He had the gas and put it in M's car. M and me politely ask R if he could buy us some booze. R said he would be happy to as long as we promised him we wouldn't drive. M and me agreed we wouldn't drive. We gave R the money and agreed to meet him at the back of a vacant church (Jesus drank wine, so shut up), were he would give us the bottle. M and me went to the back of the church were R met us and gave us a liter of cheap, 80 proof, sigma seven whisky. M was to sneak the booze into his house when he got home. I would sneak out of my house later that night, and walk over to M's house (M only lives about .2 miles away from me). M called me after we got home. He told me that a few other people would be showing up and asked if that was ok, I said it was.

So, over the next few hours I talked to B (my all time best friend, the most fun and bad ass person you could ever meet) on the phone. He was really exited about me getting drunk and wanted me to call him later that night.

At around 10:00pm that night, M called me and told me to come on over. I sneaked out of my house, I grabbed a walking cain (for the walk home), walked to M's house, and went through the door to his basement like I always do. M and me waited for about 30 minutes for the others to show up, but they didn't. M told me that we should wait till tomorrow to get drunk, but I pressured him into opening the bottle that night. He went upstairs and got a coke for chaser. We took turns taking a shot of whisky and then a shot of coke. This was my second time getting drunk. The first time I got drunk I only had a bottle of 20 prof wine. When the coke was empty, we each took a shot of whisky strait. After that, M hid the bottle behind his couch. We began to watch tv. I can't remember what we were watching. My conversations with M were much more interesting than whatever was on tv. Then the booze kicked in. M became slightly more relaxed and talkative. I, on the other hand, became really exited and REALLY talkative.

I asked M if I could have a little more to drink. He said it was ok as long as I didn't drink too much: I should have known there is no way for me to just drink a little more, I should have never asked for another drink. As I learned from my prior experience with alcohol- once I get drunk, I can't stop drinking. I grabbed the bottle from behind the couch. Then I drank about 6 or 7 more shots before M forced me to stop. After that I felt like I was watching a movie about myself, by this I mean I was only watching my actions, but was not in control of them. M and me watched tv for a few minutes more before M had to go to the bathroom. When he came back, I was sitting on the couch chuggen more of the booze. M was freaking out cause the liter of sigma seven was over 1/3 empty. He took the bottle from me and put it behind the couch again. It was after 12:00pm when M said I needed to go home. I agreed with him and quickly grabbed the bottle from behind the couch and started chuggen. I don't remember how much was left after that, but the next day M said the bottle was over half empty after I left. At this point I was feeling something I had felt before, but not for a long time. I felt like I was a child in kindergarten again. I didn't need to worry about tomorrow, I had today. M decided he would walk me half way home.

I picked up my cain, then stumbled out of M's house. Everything was beginning to blur together, I couldn't make out anything more than 30 feet away. When M and I got to his front yard, I pulled my pants down and urinated right then and there. After that, M and I continued to walk/stumble up to the top of the street. The whole time I was pretending I was in a row boat and my cain was the paddle. At the top of the street M asked if I knew the way back to my house. I recited the way, gave M a heterosexual hug, said good bye, and then continued my horrible journey home.

It was then that the trouble began. I called B and talked to him. I remember yelling at him, telling him what ever I was doing I was doing at the moment. While I was talking to him, I came to the part of the road that I had to cross. It was at this road were I really began to lose my balance. When I tried to cross the road I fell down in the middle of the street. I scraped my knee and elbow fairly bad. B heard me fall and asked me if he need to call an ambulance. I saw that I wasn't bleeding bad, so I told B I was ok. I continued to fall down as I stumbled and yelled down the street.

When I got to the end of the street, I realized I couldn't feel my glasses, they had fallen off some were on my journey. I back tracked, but I kept falling down so much that I couldn't look for my glasses. I was still raving at B, who then convinced me to, 'forget the fucking glasses and go home before you fucking hurt yourself!'. I listened to B and continued home.

As I turned onto the street my house is on, I heard a women talking, but I couldn't see anything that wasn't right in front of my face. I told B all of this, and he started freaking. He thought I was hallucinating, unfortunately I wasn't. I remember a black shadowy figure (a woman, I couldn't see well enough to tell what she looked like) kept shouting at me. She was asking me if I had seen her dog. B heard her and told me to run before she called the cops, I didn't listen to him. By this point in time, the entire world was like a dream. I was had no control what-so-ever over anything that I said or did. I wasn't at all angry when I said what I was about to say, but because of the booze I yelled out at the top of my lungs, 'I haven't seen your fucking dog you bitch!'.

B was cracking up, but the women sure as hell wasn't. She said, as you might expect, 'What did you just call me!?'. I panicked and yelled back at her, 'No, no wait, I said itch, not bitch. I called you an itch! itch, itch, itch, itch!'. She then said, 'Are you intoxicated!?'. I, now almost half way scared, said, 'I ain't fucking intoxicated, I ain't fucking intoxicated, I ain't fucking intoxicated. Hey [B], am I mother fucking intoxicated!?'. B (who was on speaker phone cause I couldn't keep the phone near my head) said, '[C], You ARE fucking intoxicated. Now get away from her'. The last thing I can remember the lady saying is, 'I'm calling the police'. B heard what she had said and realized that this wasn't a joke anymore. B was screaming at me, he was saying,'[C] run! Get out of there! Go home! Run! [ect...]'. I did as he said and tried to run home the best and fastest that I could. Before I got home I looked over my back to see if the lady followed me, she didn't.

I got to my house and crawled through the front door. By this point I could not walk at all. I couldn't even stand for more than a few seconds. B, still on the phone, kept telling me to go to bed. I was able crawl into my living room, but not without first breaking a bunch of pots I had made in my 7th grade art class. I picked up the broken pots the best I could. I then started to roll on the floor while trying to watch tv. Because of the alcohol, rolling around on the floor felt really relaxing. B was both scared and mad at this point. He had been telling me to 'Forget the fucking tv and go to bed before you wake up your mom!'. I couldn't handle the tv control, so I decided to do what B was telling me. As I was crawling through the hall leading to my room, I tried to stand up several times, only to knock over a bunch of pictures. I can only remember one thing after I finally got to my room. The last thing I remember is me telling B that I was going to go to bed face down so that when I throw up (I had not thrown up yet), the vomit won't go into my lungs.

I don't remember anything after that. The next day my mother woke me up at 8:00am. I was laying sideways, not face down, but what was more shocking at the time was the fact that my entire body was completely covered with my own vomit. I was still half way drunk (I could control my actions, but I had difficulty concentrating and reacting quickly). I got out of bed, took a shower, drank some coffee, and went back to sleep on my now sheet-less bed (My mom had thrown my vomit drenched sheets in the trash while I was in the shower). I had to find my old par of scratched up glasses to wear. I never was able to find the par I lost. I felt like a piece of trash for the next 2 days. B called me later that day to see if I was ok. I told him that what I had done that night was, 'a big mistake'. I then asked him what he remembered about last night. He filled me in on the little details I couldn't remember. B told me to rest for the next few days, and never to drink that much alcohol ever again.

Ironically, he should have listened to himself. A few months later, he drank half a liter of tequila. B, in his drunken state, got the idea it would be funny to call the police on himself. Because he was on his own property, and his parents didn't know that he had been drinking, he was just issued a citation, but that's a story for him to tell. I called M after I got off the phone with B. M had been really worried about me, he thought I was going to end up with alcohol poisoning. M and I both agreed never to drink like that again, if ever.

All in all: I had the most fun that night that I've ever had using a recreational drug (yes, alcohol is a drug). At the same time, I had the worst repercussions from using a recreational drug I've ever had.

I know my mother knows I was drinking that night, She had to have heard me. Hell! The people across the street probably heard me. My mother never confronted me about that night directly, even though she knew I had been drinking. It was obvious that my mom was disappointed with me, but she wasn't mad at me. The fact that she was ashamed of me, instead of being mad at me, added insult to injury. I think my mother wasn't mad at me because she knows that I learned my lesson on my own.

The total amount of alcohol I've consumed since that night is 2 beers (and not at the same time either). The thing that disturbed me most of all about that night was NOT the falling down and getting hurt, or loosing my glasses, or disappointing my mother, or even almost getting arrested by the police. What bothered me the most about that night was the thought of how many brain cells I killed. I have an IQ of 134: I am a genius (according to MENSA), or at least I was. For weeks I couldn't stop thinking about all my brain cells that I killed, all the things I can no longer learn, THAT is what I found, and still find, the worst part of that horrible night. Even though alcohol is fairly legal, and the most accepted of all of the recreational drugs (except caffeine), alcohol is at least twice as powerful as ANY other recreational drug I've tried (including weed, speed, and salvia). To me, even the short term repercussions of abusing alcohol far out way its powerful, yet dangerous high. After my bad encounter with alcohol (and several other depressants), I've decided to stay with speed for now. Speed is something that I can control myself on, and I don't get carried away with it like I do with alcohol and other depressants. I will still probably have a little to drink at celebrations and such, but not enough to get drunk. For as I have said, 'once I get drunk, I can not stop drinking'.

I'm sorry if this report is too long and tedious. I've already listened to my Emerson Lake and Palmer CD 7 times, and sat in front of the tv for about 30 minutes, the total time I've spent writing and editing this report is over 5 hours (the time is 12:25am). The speed I took really makes me want to tell you the WHOLE story: even if it takes me all night to do so. I feel like going on and on about how others I know who have had experience(s) with alcohol that have been significantly better, or worse than my own. I feel like doubling the size of this report by writing about the first time I got drunk, but this report bares too much semblance to a Herman Melville novel as it is.

So, in conclusion to my rather long and detailed report on the horrible affects alcohol had on me that night: I don't think that I will ever get drunk again, but even if forget how bad that night was, and I do get drunk again, it sure as hell won't be for a VERY long time.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 66207
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 17
Published: Dec 7, 2015	Views: 5,294
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