I was 14 years old when I got drunk for the first time. Not something I do regularly, mind you, but this is the first time I can remember having drank a little too much.

It was New Year's eve. I walked over to my friend's house, wearing this ugly brown and green knit dress my mother insisted I wear, because we were all going out to dinner. My friend, her mother, and her "uncle" were taking about 12 of us to a nice local restaurant.

At "Tammy's" house, I was promptly served a mimosa as soon as I arrived. My boyfriend at the time seemed almost gleaming, as he watched me down my drink. He was 18 and had yet to get very far with me. Maybe he saw this as his best avenue.

I hadn't eaten much at all because I wanted to save room for dinner. But when we arrived at the restaurant, our table was not ready. We waited of course, in the bar, where Tammy's "uncle" proceeded to buy us more drinks. (I say "uncle" because he was her mother's friend, an nice older guy, who perhaps was gay and who definitely drank too much!) "Are these people really 21?" inquired the bartender, squinting specifically at me. "Sure they are," said Unk, and probably slipped him a 20. I got a strawberry daquiri - on my still empty stomach.

By the time dinner came around, I was feeling pretty good. I sat next to my boyfriend, who had his hand on my leg most of the time, and across from the Uncle. I don't actually recall much of the dinner, except that wine was served, and I drank that too. I do recall feeling very impressed with the Uncle. As a slow eater, I tend to hold everyone up. But the Uncle waited for me, and matched me bite for bite, so I never ate alone. Fourteen years later, I am still impressed by that, and any guy who partakes of this habit will find much appreciation in their lady friends.

For dessert, Uncle ordered shots of anisette (?) all around. At least I think it was anisette - someone correct me if I'm wrong, but it tasted like black licorice. They were all aflame, and each glass held three coffee beans which we were supposed to swallow with the liquer. After all these drinks, I was pretty smashed. Someone said, "Maitri, do you want my cheesecake?" I gladly took it and started in, forgetting that I didn't like cheesecake at all, at least until that point.

Spoonful by spoonful I ate the sweet dessert, and I must have been pretty intent about it. All I recall was looking at this cheesecake, and a voice ringing out, "Maitri, are you OK?" "I'm fine," I answered faintly, and kept shoveling in the cheescake.

My boyfriend probably walked me home, although I don't remember it. I think he grabbed my ass on the way, but maybe that was a different night entirely. I collapsed into bed, exhausted, and slept, but not peacefully.

All night I hallucinated. I was convinced my room was filled with people, in the weird red glow of the Christmas candles in my window. Voices whispered just out of my perception, driving me crazy, and I thought that my boyfriend was in bed with me. Maybe I had the spins.

The next morning I felt OK, but my mom came into my room to ask about my night. Boy, it stinks like garlic and onions in here, she exclaimed. I'm glad that's all it smelled like!