One day at a restaurant, my brother misunderstood our family discussion about snorting coke (we thought it was a funny concept).
He tried inhaling his Pepsi through the straw into his nose, and then proceeded to sneeze pepsi-snot on the tablecloth!
when my mother said someone 'didnt drink' that this referred to everything, not just alcohol. I dont know how they survived...mabye they were some human version of a camel.
One of the saddest moments of my life, and the pivotal moment that ended my childhood innocence and started me on a life as a bitter cynic, occured the morning after one of my parent's parties.
It was early on a Sunday morning, probably in the fall of 1964 or 1965. There had been one of my parent's parties the night before. My father was an executive in a construction company, and often held parties to which he would invite clients and business friends. When my younger brother and I came downstairs to the family room in the finished basement, there was the usual collection of empty beer bottles, filled ash trays, rumpled paper napkins and such. Our parents were still asleep upstairs. We knew not to try to swig the leftover beer from the bottles (my brother had found a cigarette in one after the last party). I had always been fascinated by hard liquor, in particular by scotch. I had gotten the idea somewhere that scotch must taste like butterscotch. Perhaps I assumed that because of the evident gusto with which some of my father's friends drank the stuff. At any rate, I decided that this morning was the time to taste scotch for myself.
Taking the half-empty bottle from the ledge which served as a bar, I removed the cap and took a large drink directly from the bottle.
Of course, I immediately spit what was left in my mouth out across the room in a fine spray. The portion I had already swallowed was rapidly searing a path through-not down-my esophagus and boring a deep hole in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't breath, I couldn't talk. I could only choke and gasp, trying vainly to convey to my brother that I was in the process of dying.
When I could finally catch my breath and utter comprehensible sounds, I told my brother that "Dad must have put kerosine in this bottle!"
Well, that was it. The moment when I realized that childhood fanasies were just that-fantasies, with no basis in reality. Reality was sharp and bitter and stung and burned. Scotch did not, of course, taste at all like butterscotch. Grownups drank the stuff not because it tasted good, but for some other horrible, yet to be determined but undoubtedly evil, reason. So it would be for all my naive childhood perceptions. They would all have to be abandoned or at least re-evaluated in light of this painful new experience.
When my brother was around seven or eight he developed a strange obsession with orange juice. At one stage he was drinking so much of it we began to get rather concerned. The truth was finally revealed one morning when my mum spotted him carefully examining a carton. 'Mum', he said. 'If I drink loads of long-life orange, do you think I'll have a REALLY long life?'
When I asked my sister why Mountain Dew was yellow she told me it was because it was made with Mountain Goat pee. Oddly enough, this thrilled me, because I liked goats, and I thought that drinking Mountain Dew would give me special powers to climb mountains and join them.
My mother drank alot of coffee, so I would ask her for some. She always told me coffee made you ugly! I have never drank coffee.
My dad used to drink Mountain Dew like it was going out of style and for some reason, one day he told me it is was panther piss. I looked on the ingredients and when I informed my father of this he told me they couldn't do that or no one would buy it.I believed that it was at least partially true and when I was about 16 and at Taco Bell drive-thru I ordered a 'medium panther piss'. Needless to say I didn't get a mountain dew. When I was about 19 somehow the discussion about it came up and my father almost had a heart attack when he found out that I actually believed him.
When I was 5 my mother and I were riding in the car, somehow I managed to drop my can of pop. I went to open it, and my mother quickly stopped me from doing so and explained to me that my pop would explode if I opened it. Well you can imagine what was running through my head... she then said I would just need to tap the top of the can with my finger for a little while. So some time had passed, about a half hour probably longer... and my mother looked in the back seat... I was still tapping the pop... my mom said it is fine to open it now... well at that point I burst into tears... and explained to her that I didn't want it to explode and we should just get rid of it. To this day... I will never forget the fear I experienced on that car ride, and every time I tap my pop, I remember sitting in the back seat of that car thinking I had something explosive in my hands.
I was always told that beer was made from horse pee.
When I was about 10, I was drinking the last can of Coke. I wanted some more, so I took a Pepsi that was in the refrigerator since it's pretty much the same. My dad, not wanting me to drink anymore, told me that if I drank Coke and Pepsi together, it would bubble up into my lungs and I'd suffocate and most likely die. She told me that the reason they had the Coke and Pepsi at opposite ends of the isle in the store was so if they were to spill it wouldn't explode. I believed this for about three years. My friends all thought I was nuts when I would ever so daringly get a cup of each, spill them on top of each other while outside, and run like a mad woman.
I used to believe that the date stamped on soda cans and other beverages saying "For best taste, drink by..." meant that the beverage would taste the best on that exact date. I tried saving a can of Coke for about 2 years so that I could savor the "best taste." I thought this applied to milk as well, and learned the hard way that it didn't.
When I was younger (about 6 or so) I used to believe that "concentrate" (you know, written on orange juice labels) was an actual place (as in a 3rd world country) where they just grew bad fruit. I used to think that the fruits were grown dried-out because the soil didn't have enough water (because they couldn't afford it of course), so they had to add water to the juice when it came to America.
That's why I never liked juice from concentrate.
I believed this up until I was 11.
I used to believe to believe that you couldn't drink 7 up unless you were 7 years or older ( 7 and up) Then one day I went to a restuarant and asked for sprite but the waitor said they had only 7 up so I freaked out and didn't order it.
At school, we were always taught "dont drink and drive." When my father was drinking a soda as he was driving, I freaked out.
When my son asked for a sip of wine one night, I told him "no, u have to be 21 to drink alcohol." So after that he assumed I was 21, which was great, until my next birthday, when he went around to his school and announced that I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol anymore! I didn't realize he thought you had to be EXACTLY 21, and all of his teachers thought I was an alcoholic!
I used to believe that the devices that we used extensively would get tired, which is why we needed to turn them off. One day, it struck me that the same devices that get "tired" should also be thirsty, as I was after playing around outside.
So, I started quenching the thirst of the inanimate objects I valued, with coke, which included the telephone in the living room, my portable cassette player, my game console, and a couple of remote controlled cars (as well as several action figures.)
My mother stopped me just in time before I moved on to "help" the living room TV.
My dad used to tell me that sugar only worked in drinks if you stirred it clockwise. If you wanted to switch it off you just stirred it the other way
I believed this until about 11 years old
I never knew why my grandma would stir her tea, so I came to believe that stirring a drink in a circular motion would cool it down, while stirring it in a side-to-side motion would heat it up.
When I was a little boy, my mom was VERY health concious. In the grocery store, I asked my mom to buy some Kool Aid. She refused, saying that it was bad for your teeth. I said, "Then why do they even MAKE it?". She said, "For people who want their teeth to rot.". I took her 100% literally and was horrified to think that there were people in the world who actually WANTED their teeth to rot and would buy a product specifically made for that purpose!
My wife used to believe that Apple Juice was just urine. In her whole life she has never tasted Apple Juice because she is still not convinved it is not urine.