In highschool I was kind of the designated driver for most of the, um, less-than-admittable-to-parents outings that I and my friends went on. I was the one who was always going, "Like, oh my gosh, you guys! We are, like, totally going to get BUSTED!!" We did all kinds of dumb stuff together, even so. Now that I'm a parent, I shudder to think...but I digress.
Anyhoo, even though I did occasionally knock back a wine cooler or whatever (or two, if I was feeling Really Wild and Van Halen was playing on the tape deck), I was pretty much against doing anything illegal. Ever. (I still am, come to think of it).
|My idea of aWild Night, circa 1988|
|Remember these guys? Yeah, they definitely helped up the image...|
So when Shane's parents, the nicest, sweetest, most law-abiding people you could ever hope to be related to, decided with two of my future sisters-in-law that it would be fun to take me to a small local bar, where they knew the owner AND the band, for a "bachelorette party" (and I use the term very, very loosely), I was instantly...I don't know...indignant. Mortified to the depth of my fairly shallow Protestant soul.
Me: Ohhhh no. You guys!! We are NOT going to a bar! Pick something else. I'm not going to a bar. I'm not OLD enough!
Them: It will be fun, and we know the owner; we just want to go listen to the band. You're coming.
Me: No way. I'm not. You can't make me... I'll tell them I'm not old enough! I'll tell them you forced me to come. We'll get kicked out! You'll be in trouble! We'll all go to jail!
Them: Shut up, Stef. Just come with us. We promise, we won't get you in trouble. Just don't say anything; you'll be fine. It's just some music, and it happens to be in a bar. Come on.
This went on back and forth for quite a while, until eventually I realized I sort of had no choice. And I was starting to look like a total prude.
Me: Fine. I'll go, but I will not have fun. I won't tell them I'm underage, but I will not drink any alcohol, and that's that. (seriously? I was this straight?)
So we got there, and I was totally sweating it, walking in, like I must have a big "AGE 20" stamped on my forehead. Ohmigosh, they're going to card me...I know they're going to card me. We're all going to jail. I look terrible in orange! (Them: Shut up, Stef).
We walked right in. Said hi to the owner, who knew my inlaws and didn't even blink at me. I bet I looked like...I don't even know what I looked like, but I was so nervous I probably already looked drunk, bumping into stuff, apologizing, etc. Like I'd never been out in public. Dork. They were like, sit down, Stef...Maybe the owner just figured I was that weird relative they just take out now and then, you know, like a field trip or something.
So I sat down with them, and they're all like normal people in a bar, laughing, listening to music, enjoying themselves. It seemed SO loud, and so dark. I felt like a peasant from the Middle Ages suddenly dropped off at a new-age rock concert. It was a small country bar in the middle of nowhere, but I was just sure it was a den of iniquity, and I might never recover. I yelled at them, "I'm NOT drinking! I can't believe you guys made me do this! We are SO going to jail!!" Them: "Shut up, Stef."
I sat back (probably actually crossed my arms), convinced that I could survive this and not go to jail forever and end up living in a van down by the river, if I could just get past the part where the waitress takes the drink orders. No alcohol.
The owner came around to take our orders, and started chatting with my in-laws. I'm totally freaking out inside, but trying to look all cool, like, yeah, I do this all the time. I'm totally over 21. Be cool. But I am NOT ordering any alcohol. At least I won't go to jail for THAT. She takes all their orders, everyone's yelling over the loud music. I'm thinking she's going to turn to me now and say, "Why are you here? You don't look old enough," but instead she just yells (over the super-loud, country music):
"What can I getcha?"
Me: (yelling) "I'll just have iced tea, please." Ha. See? No alcohol for me.
Her: "Long Island??"
Me: "Yeah, sure. Long Island, Lipton...whatever you have."
Her: "Gotcha. Be right back, y'all."
I had no earthly idea what a Long Island Iced Tea was. I was trying to be such a puritan, and instead I ordered the strongest drink I'd ever had. The look on my face when I took the first sip was probably priceless.
Oh. My. Gosh. And of course, my inlaws thought it was hilarious...still do.
|This was so NOT Lipton!|