It was my eighteenth birthday. I was having a double birthday party with my friend Lauren at the Keystone Roller-Skating Rink, and Matt and Bill showed up.

As presents, they had bought me a Win For Life lottery ticket (which I didn't win by the way) and the El Dorado, the biggest cigar I had seen in my entire life. They said that they wanted to get me something cool, interesting, and important to my new age. It was. However, I don't smoke and informed them of this. They told me to just hang it on my wall, but little did they know of my lack of willpower in the face of temptation.

It called to me, in a raspy, gravelly voice, reminiscent of George Burns.

"Smooooooke meeee. C'mon, it'll be fun. Find out what all the smokers are raving about. Smooooooke meeeee." and I succumbed to the temptation.

It was the day of the Korn/Rob Zombie Concert at the Broome County Arena. I had been looking forward to it all week. The plan was, I would drive to my friends', Jason and Jamie's, houses, pick them up, and then meet my mother at the high school and she'd drive me and my brother's friends in the van up to the Arena.

I lit up on the way to Jason's house.
"This isn't bad," I said, "I could get used to this."
I got to Jason's house and revelled in his astonishment that me, the goody-two-shoes, was chomping on a cigar. We headed for Jamie's, me puffing away the entire time. We stopped at a gas station along the way because I was running low. I pumped and Jason paid. I noticed that I was feeling a bit light-headed, so I extinguished my cigar. We then set off for Jamie's.

As we sat in Jamie's driveway waiting for him, I noticed that I was feeling distinctly nauseous.

"I'm gonna step out for some fresh air," I said to Jason. I was standing outside my car when Jamie came out. I explained my situation.

"Oh man," he said, "You're going to puke. Your first time smoking should not have been a cigar."

"I'll be okay," I said.

We headed to the high school, with Jason and Jamie chatting and me trying to hold down my lunch the entire way. Upon reaching the high school, the first thing I did was open my door and puke. Not just a little either, I'd say the majority of the contents of my stomach ended up in a puddle in the parking lot. The track team was practicing in the parking lot, so they had a little bit of excitement.

"You okay?" my friends asked.

"Yeah," I replied, wiping the chicken noodle soup that I had so enjoyed at lunch from my face. "Yeah, now that I puked I'll be better. I just gotta go in the high school and take a dump and I'll be ready to go."

I walked into the high school and came upon my girlfriend, who was just getting out of tennis practice. I'm okay now, I thought, I'll just sit and talk with her for awhile. My mom's not supposed to be hear for another twenty minutes. As we chatted, I decided it would be a good idea to lay down. She was talking about something or other, and then I puked. I was laying on my back, and thankfully I covered my mouth, but a lot of it still sprayed all over my jacket, face, and glasses. I ran to the garbage can and retched.

"Alright, I'm definitely okay now," I said. I then had a brief interlude in which I took a dump and explained to my girfriend that I was going to go out and sit in my car. More for her sake then mine. I went out and sat in the car with Jamie (Jason had gone inside the high school for something) and we chatted. Then I opened my door and spewed again.

"Alright," I said, "I'm not okay."

So it came to pass that on that fateful day, my brother, and his friends, and my friends, went to see Korn and Rob Zombie, whilst I remained home and in bed.

Go ahead, laugh. Smart-ass.