Alcohol: The Elixir of Teen Downfall

Art by Machelle Tran| VOX Staff

By Napalm Kitty | VOX Staff

The July night in Marietta, GA, is comforting and inviting. My friend and I interlock our arms as we walk from the full parking lot into the sports bar. Giddiness hovers in the air this Saturday night. The semi-finals to The Battle of the Bands is about to begin. I jam my hand into my pant pocket and graze the leathery wad of twenties I have saved-up from a part-time job. In addition to hearing talented local bands tonight, I have high hopes of getting a drink or two. As I approach the bar’s ornate double doors, I tighten my grip on my friend’s arm. This night will prove to be another trip.

Unveiled in this Moment
I am 16 years-old, and three times in the past year, I’ve used alcohol to make myself more outgoing. Suffering from depression and low self-confidence, factors that made me more vulnerable to drinking, I embraced those moments. I took alcohol as a way to self-medicate for my depression. I am now recovering from that choice, and I have to say that alcohol was never worth it at all because it only gave me false hope and false relief.

The Beginning for Another Dead End
At the bar, I fidget with my clothing, waiting the next performers, a quartet known as Zero Day. After they step onstage, the band teases the crowd with a few notes of their distinctive, wailing riffs and screaming vocals before going off to tune their custom-shop guitars and snapping on their drum heads. From the sparkle in the eyes of underdressed girls and overdressed guys, this band is worth the wait. Zero Day will cause the waitresses a whole night’s worth of cleaning when the mosh pit begins—when alcohol and fists fly wildly, and everyone will struggle to keep their head above the human waves. That will be the moment when I finally lose myself.

I beckon with a barely noticeable flick of my hand, and the server, Blair*, approaches me. She knows that I am a minor, but this bar’s “Don’t ask, don’t care” policy allows minors to drink. It’s my second time here, and I have learned that this place doesn’t care about minors drinking. So I order myself a Long Island Iced Tea, hoping to gulp it down before Zero Day begins. A few minutes later, Blair returns with the elixir of sedation. My heart does a series of flip-flops, for I believe at the time that this glass holds the cure to my uptightness and tension. I give the thin straw a good whirl and press my lips against the icy Collins glass. The drink is gone in seconds.

The high-proof concoction takes no immediate effect, for I’ve had previous encounters with alcohol. It could also be the fact that the beverage was just made poorly to help save the bar money. My classmate-turned-confidante, Tyler*, scoots closer and produces a sheepish smile. We agree that one drink will never be enough to loosen us up.

I call Blair once again to bring over four more Long Island Iced Teas—two for me and two for Tyler. We drink our shares greedily until our eyes shine like Christmas lights. I loosen up and enjoy my time in the congested sports bar, regardless of the drunken women and rude men. Although I am surrounded by limitless alcohol, I never drink to the point where I am unaware of my surroundings.

A layer of swirling smoke hangs above the crowd of giddy spectators sporting labrets, faux-hawks and heavy kohl-lined eyes. Something about this particular night is special, as if fairy dust will soon drift down to intoxicate all, old and young, cutting the cords of responsibility and tension so we can just have fun.

My head tips heavily from one side to the other as I make small talk with Tyler. The dim lights now seem too harsh, as they morph into massive orbs of simmering gas. To escape the sting, I settle my gaze on the darkest corner of the bar, finding immediate comfort. A crescendo of thunder and lightening erupts from the center of the room, and it takes me awhile to realize that the brilliant storm is actually the enthusiasm of the audience. More than half of the bar’s occupants are heading to the stage, chanting in unison. Zero Day will soon begin.

Tyler and I make our way to the front of the crowd. I pogo up and down when the music begins. Headbanging like a true alternative and heavy-metal lover, I lose myself in the music. I refuse more drinks, shoving away men three times my size.

After all the excitement and fun, I trade the memories for a cramped-up Honda Accord filled up with friends from my own band, Sin Existence, to get our rides home by our exhausted drummer. Before entering my room, I drop by my mom’s bedroom to say goodnight. She does not suspect that I have had a few drinks, and she trusts me enough to know that I’ll always come home taking no harm. I lock myself in my room and collapse onto my futon, falling asleep instantly.

The End
Most teenagers are attracted to alcohol because the drug, a depressant, helps slow down thoughts and emotions and make problems seem to be less than they are. After having a conversation with my editor on writing this story, I was challenged to reconsider my thoughts and beliefs. It was then that I finally realized what I wanted and what my subconscious really needed. So I grew out of this interest like a fashion trend, making my experiences very different from that of girls who get drunk and throw themselves at barely-made acquaintances or frat boys who die in another episode of the endless series, “Car Meets Tree.” I admit that I was lucky—my story is not about rape, murder or a one-night-stand—only a brief fascination. Unfortunately, not all teenagers emerge from such a period, alive and unhurt.

According to USA Today, 25 percent of the total alcohol consumed in America each year is consumed by teenagers. A lot of teenagers who drink try chase the moment in their lives where they can forget about materialistic things and daily hassles. I’m chasing that right now, too, but I have decided to leave alcohol out of it.

Teenagers should know that alcohol provides an absolute escape, but also enslavement. Laws help to discourage underage drinking, but they do not eliminate sneaking around. Society can only do its best to encourage and assist minors in making safer choices before they hit rock-bottom. I realize that my life never needed alcohol, and I have to stop running away from life. I look forward to depending on no substance and no person but myself. If I am unhappy with my life, I will go out to make it better, because that is my responsibility, not alcohol’s. I started off wanting to write about why teenagers drink, and somewhere along the way I realized that the whole angle has already been covered, but rarely is teenage drinking expressed in the way I am doing now. That said, I think that my words are already more than enough.

Napalm is a junior at a DeKalb County School.
*All names were changed.