One of my earliest experiences with getting drunk and puking like a sick dog came in my sophomore year of high school when I went to a party with my sister's friend Patty (a pretty Latina).
I had too much sloe gin and found myself hurling my guts out in front of the house. I never had sloe gin again in my life. True story.
My first legal drink of alcohol - I was 18 and at a bar in New York City with a friend - was a beer. It was legal in the state in 1969.
A year later I was in Vietnam souveniring officer's whiskey supplies to share with the guys in my squad.
By the time I was out of the Army and 21 years old I considered myself a connoisseur of alcohol ranging from Scotch to Wine and everything in-between.
My love hate relationship with booze often got me in trouble in my younger days. I was a real idiot who got into too many fights in bars and on the streets when tanked up.
But as I grew older and married my relationship with alcohol became more benign. There were exceptions in those years when I did get drunk and ugly, but most of the time I drank socially and behaved myself.
When our three sons grew up my drinking experience once again blossomed, and my wife and I enjoyed going to wineries with friends. Right up until recently it's been my golden age of booze intake with an eclectic selection of spirits on any given night.
Then it happened. The first time was about nine months ago when I suddenly couldn't drink any kind of booze and began throwing it up the following morning. I quit drinking for a few months then tried it again. Wine and beer seemed okay until it wasn't okay one day about two weeks ago.
I have mixed feelings about this aversion to alcohol. On one hand, it's not a bad thing for my health. If anything, it's probably beneficial.
On the other hand, I'm feeling like I lost a good friend. I just wish I knew why.
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