A 16-year-old’s Guide to Alcohol

My name is Jack Renshaw. I’ve been asked to write an essay on the many encounters I've had with alcohol (and I've had many in my many long years on this planet). I was begged and begged (I would have to guess about… one time?) before I gave in and I graciously agreed. So, without further adieu:

 A 16-year-old’s Guide to Alcohol

The first time I drank alcohol I was twelve. I was playing a rather complicated board game with one of my sisters (I have many) and her boyfriend. We had played a few rounds and the mental stress of this game was really getting to my sister. She decided (like any sane person would) to open up a fresh bottle of wine. When my sister offered me a sip from the bottle I gratefully accepted. What can I say? I am a responsible child. I had to.

It was a small sip but nonetheless, I can still recall the bitterness of the five dollar drink…

That night, I awoke dreadfully sick with a stomach bug. To this day, I swear that the small sip of wine was the cause of my woes.

After that, I wouldn’t dabble with alcohol for quite some time; In fact, my next brush with sin would come during the summer of ‘22. I took a trip to a small town– it’s just outside of the Wild Wild West. You may have heard it referred to as… Los Angeles, California? Well, Utah, where I grew up (guess I'm still growing?) has a very strange relationship with alcohol. Here, most alcoholic drinks are sold only in state-run liquor stores. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked into Erewhon for the first time and casually strolled past two fully stocked isles of wine! While this may be considered normal in your city, I was dumbfounded. I felt like a kid in a candy store! Except I was not allowed to have the candy. Using my aforementioned years of expertise, I helped my sister (a different sister, who you may recognize as the editor of this zine) pick out a few bottles. 

Side note: when we went to the checkout counter I watched my sister spend the same amount of money as my monthly paycheck. Which, to me, is WILD but as they say LA BAYBEEEE!!

Note from the editor: He works part time at a cookie shop. 

My sister was throwing a birthday party for her favorite barista. When the party was in full swing, she offered me many small glasses of each of the wines we had bought. 

Note from the editor: MISINFORMATION- I offered him a small glass of champagne. I did not facilitate an underage wine tasting. 

At some point I realized I had a bit too much. Nevertheless, I proceeded to give the best Google slides presentation of all time. (Yes, this is how we celebrate birthdays. You’ve never been to a powerpoint party?) 

The next time I went lip to rim with the drink of the gods was…a bit more… extreme. Fast forward to the end of the summer. My father is a big vodka man– he likes Moscow Mules and Screwdrivers. As you’ll recall, each of my alcoholic encounters up until this point  have been chaperoned and guided by an adult. However, this time, I took matters into my own hands. I had planned it all out. I studied my family’s schedules and found my moment: a short 30-minute window where nobody was in the house except for me. Once it was time, I raced to the freezer and retrieved the sweet nectar that would change my life. Then, I grabbed my conveniently placed shot glass. I took a deep breath and mentally prepared for my first trip to the big leagues. It took me five minutes to open the bottle. It must have been a mix of nerves, anxiety, freezing cold bottles and my general inexperience with this type of thing, but I just could not get it open!!! Thoughts of giving up flooded my mind but I was determined. Eventually, I prevailed over my enemy. I poured my shot and I grabbed my phone to record myself. Stupidly, I challenged myself to take this shot without making a face. I thought it would be easy: I am a master of this type of stuff. [For reference, I can shove a handful of the worst bean-boozled flavors into my mouth and not bat an eye! Hell, I’ve even downed a shot of white vinegar in a dingy apartment in San Francisco and I didn’t even flinch (still waiting on that $20 Childrey)]. But even with all that under my belt, nothing could prepare me for the dreadful taste of straight vodka. To me, it tastes like grape flavored cough medicine. Immediately afterwards I felt like vomiting but I steeled myself and went on with my day like nothing happened.

Now, Fourth of July 2023. My Brother Drew is making drinks for my family (he’s a bartender). Drew didn’t want me to feel left out so he made me a Faux-mojito, a Fauxjito… if you will. Whilst making me the equivalent of a spicy lemonade, Drew substituted the alcohol with ginger beer. However, I think he added way too much ginger beer because…well, simply put: this drink was offensive to my taste buds. This drink was so god awful that it took me all day to drink it. Maybe halfway through my drink, I was struck with a strange feeling of dizziness. I wondered if Drew had messed up?  Maybe accidently (or not), he put some alcohol into my drink? I decided not to ask.

Now for my last drink of alcohol. It was August 2023. Again, I'm in Los Angeles visiting Editor-in-Chief, Chloe Oloren. On the final day of my trip we found out that a close friend had just gotten an amazing job. This was cause to celebrate!! We got some champagne, picked up that barista, and with a small group of friends, we popped the cork and poured out glasses (my serving was tiny). I said a toast. We clink glasses. We drank the sparkly wine. The rest of the night we played a heated and competitive game of Mario Party, almost destroying our friendships. We cooled down and reconciled with some Jackbox games; we healed our grievances. At the end of the night, we gifted the remains of the champagne to our esteemed guest. Right as we handed the bottle off, the replacement cork popped and flew across the living room sending a confetti of champagne flying through the air, and all over the floor. 

No, I did not lick it up. 

Now, you may think that these stories I have told you have been super wholesome and nice. While I agree with you, they are! –No one under the age of 21 in the United States should drink alcohol. I’m looking at you, Jacob! 

Anyone under the age of 21 named Jacob is freaking out right now.