What causes us to remember the first
time we have done something? What makes the experience stick in our minds? I can remember most of my first experiences
well. There was my first kiss. I was too young to know what passion or the
warmth of another person would feel like. It was quick, as if I had stolen
something I would need to return. I believe it is the memory of my first
cigarette and alcoholic beverage that has had a profound effect on my
life.
I
was eleven years old when my brother gave me my first cigarette. He was three
years older than I was, and it was cool to smoke. I looked at him with
admiration. He was going to teach me how to smoke. I would be like him and his
friends. He gave me his lighter and told me, "Put the cigarette in your
mouth. When you light it, take a deep breath."
I
can remember thinking, "This is going to be easy. Why didn‘t I try it
sooner?" I put the cigarette in my mouth and flicked the top of the Zippo
lighter. It produced a small spark. I flicked it again and had a flame. I put
the lighter against the end of the cigarette and inhaled. It was as if someone
had stolen my lungs from my body. I could not breathe, my throat was burning.
My brother grabbed the cigarette out of my hand, and was yelling at me to
breathe. I was trying to breathe when I vomited all over the deck. I felt the
warmth of my tears streaming down my face. I went into the house. It took me
only a few seconds to find my inhaler. I took a puff; however, it did not
relieve the pain in my chest. The burning was still there. I spent the rest of
the day vomiting and sleeping. I learned a valuable lesson- Asthma and
cigarettes do not mix.
I
was my brother's chaperone when I was younger, and I was inducted into a game
where we drank shots of hard liquor and repeated ridiculous phrases. The first
person would say, "Do you want to buy a duck?" as he pointed at
another person. They were to respond, without making any mistakes.
"A
what?"
"A
duck."
"Does
it quack?"
"Of
course, it quacks." Now remember, there could be no mistakes or you would
have to do a shot. There was no logic to the game, but it was fun to watch.
Somehow, I was picked to fill an empty seat. I sat down confident that I was
not going to make any mistakes. I remembered how the first shot burned, but
after a few more it no longer burned. I was laughing, and having a great time.
My brother tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the car. It was time to
leave, and as I stood up, my legs turned into noodles. The ground began to
dance as if I were on the ocean. I did not like the overwhelming feeling of
being on the sea, so I sat back down.
The
next thing I remember is being home. It was nice being carried up to my room. I
was tired and knew the warmth of my bed would be comforting. However, when my
brother gently laid me down, I did not feel comforted. I could hear the water
sloshing around, and the waves were moving the bed. I opened my eyes, and the
room was spinning.
The
sun was shining though my window. Rather than make me smile, I cringed. I had
an awful headache. As I proceeded to get up, I noticed what appeared to be a
mixture of a liquid and chunks of unprocessed food. I went to find my mother. I
was expecting to receive a warm hug and some nurturing, but I received the
opposite. "I hope you learned your lesson, and tell your brother he is
grounded." I was waiting for her to tell me I was grounded too, but, she
looked at me and said, "I hope this teaches you something."
I
learned many valuable lessons hanging out with my brother. He taught me that
smoking and asthma don't mix, and to drink in moderation.
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