Well I think I have saved all of you guys from a couple of minutes of uncomfortable reading, here. I decided instead of writing about the first time I ever had sex, to write instead about the first time I smoked a cigarette. Trust me, looking back now on my first sexual encounter I wish it had been with someone else. I ended up spending two long abusive years with the guy, but hey that’s okay because I learned about life and love, right?
Trust me, it’s not that spectacular so I’ll spare the details. But why choose the first time I smoked a cigarette? It’s a fun story, I enjoy telling it, and it coincides with the first time I ever went to a bar and got drunk.
Fifteen years old, still a virgin, working my first job that wasn’t babysitting [restaurant], ready to explore, busty [with almost no knowledge how to use them to my advantage], innocent, still a virgin to getting drunk and drugs as well, and had my eyes set on guys everywhere I looked. I was ready to bloom, but I needed some prodding from a friend who was a lot older than me. Looking back now, I realize she was pretty loose, and maybe not the best role model. We worked together at the restaurant, and I thought of her as a close friend. She decided to take me, one night, to a local biker bar, during bike week, to drink. Remember, I was fifteen, that’s six years below the legal limit, and she wanted to traipse me straight into the bar and drink in public.
I, of course, was more than ready to go. I had never even thought of doing anything like that. So I lied to my mom, and off we went. As we traveled down the road in her beat up car, she lit up. Until then, I had never smoked, and thought it was disgusting. I did a project on it when I was in school. I knew what it did to your lungs and health, but figured…”Hell, I can live on the wild side tonight.”
So I said, “Gimme one.”
They were horrible. She had Marlboro Reds. To this day, I can’t stand the taste of Reds. Just disgusting. You can’t even feel it going down. I don’t really remember what I thought of it at the time, because it wasn’t that significant to my night. I must not have enjoyed it that much because I didn’t smoke after that night for another two years. When I did, I did it right and went with Menthol’s. Technically, the first time I smoked a Menthol it was a Camel Crush and I honestly thought I was going to die after I smoked it. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and promised myself I would never do it again. Then I was introduced to Skyline’s after work [at a restaurant…coincidence?] and then it got really good.
Anyways, we got there and she thought I looked too young so she bought me some “biker-wear”. A little more “slutted” up, I waited, feeling like everyone who looked at me was a cop and/or could tell I was under age, while she got the drinks. There we sat, drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes like real bikers. It was fun. I think I probably over exaggerated how “drunk” I was because I truly believed I was. Looking back now, after being more experienced in really being messed up, I know I was just tipsy. My first drinks were a “Sex on the Beach,” and a “Screwdriver”, and I believe a few sips of a “Rum and Coke” before she could see I was done for the night. I remember her video recording it. To this day, I never saw it, and so I will never know if there is a random video of my teenage self, acting like an idiot out there on youtube.
We got back to her house, uninhibited and a chalked the night up to a huge success. I had lied to my mom which was never a regular thing, had dressed provocatively, had smoked cigarettes, and gotten drunk at a biker bar. To top it off, I had received no trouble for it whatsoever. Flying high we hung out for a while the next day, doing what I have absolutely no recollection. A couple of days passed and it was still a bright memory I would relish secretly to myself, until they day my mother called me downstairs.
Apparently at the restaurant in which I worked, a couple of undercover cops were regulars. They were at the bar that night and had recognized me for where I worked, and who my father was. I truly believe that is the reason my retarded butt wasn’t sent to jail that night, along with my older female companion. They, the undercover cops, told my boss [who is a good friend of my Dad’s], who told my Dad, who told my Mom, who gave me a thorough verbal lashing.
Looking back now, I got off so easy. I don’t even think I was really grounded for maybe more than a couple of days. My older brother, Josh, ragged on me quite a bit, but that was the worst of it. He didn’t rag on me for going, of course, but for getting caught.
That night was a big deal for me. It was the first time I had ever done three things teenagers usually do often: 1) lie to my parents and tell them somewhere I’m not, 2) smoke, and 3)drink. I don’t think I’d change how I did it. It may seem stupid for a 15-year-old to walk into a bar and drink publicly, but hey…if it weren’t for the undercover cops who just happened to know me…I would’ve gotten away with it completely. Our plan had a lot of balls, but a definite hint of stupidity. Doesn’t matter now, and it was one of the best nights of my life [at that time].