Teetotaling no more.

I am/was a lifelong teetotaler. All through college in fact. In my early 20s I would actively avoid any activity where other people would be drinking. Just being there made me uncomfortable. With a good set of friends, I eventually got over that. To be honest, unlike the world concieved in after school specials, nobody ever really directly pressured me to imbibe. I never encountered the apocryphal “Take a swig and be a man!” scene even once. But I guess being a hermit rather limited my exposure to peer pressure.

I hold no real religious convictions against imbibing. My family isn't made up of alcoholics who ruined my childhood with poverty and violence. Maybe the various 'say no to drugs' campaigns that the public school system launched our way was effective.

I mean, after watching the film Death Zones (1975) over and over during my formative years left me with a distaste for buses. Have you ever seen that film? They showed it to us on a yearly basis back in the early to mid-eighties. It scared the hell out of me, to the point that I began to dread the film projector being wheeled into the room. The gist of the film is that buses are dangerous, be careful around buses or they will kill the fuck out of you. They're like giant, yellow, rolling sharks just waiting for children to come within tire's length. And snow/ice? They're in a twisted partnership with the fleet of rolling death to get kids under the tires.

As I grew up in Alaska, and we had a lot of snow, I did my best to keep at least 20 feet from the line of buses that waited outside our school every afternoon when class finally let out. To hell with that shit.

The only movie that jarred my childhood in such a way was Predator, and as I lived in Alaska, where steamy jungles are few, I contrived few worries about being hunted down by a 7 foot tall invisible alien. Moose on the other hand were a common source of danger. But they couldn't turn invisible, nor were they bullet proof.

Fortunately, a Predator driving a school bus has only just occurred to me, which means I will likely be having nightmares tonight.

But yeah, those school filmstrips were brutal.

Then there was the upbringing. Our household wasn't overly strict in a religious sense – aside from the weekly forays into church. Dad was far more devoted to that cause than mom, and his preferred sect is against drugs of all kinds – from caffeine to cocaine. While my dad never drank, my mother is fond of wine(but it has to be from a box, we be classy people yo. Classy.)

Everything else aside, part of why I went the non-drinker route was rebellion. In high school I was the quiet kid who read geeky books(and after high school, and after college, and up until now). I didn't have wild hair or stylish clothes. Reading was how I defined myself. How I set myself apart. I was like Daria, except where she was brilliant and read the classics, I was a dork who preferred Science Fiction and Fantasy.

Many of my cousins drank from a youngish age, as did many of my classmates, it's a part of the culture. You drink to have fun at a party, that's what the adults around you do and you learn from the adults and try to be like them. There is also that expectation that kids will take up drinking on the path to adulthood.

But, that wasn't me. And became more not me after I moved onto college. Sobriety(at times to the point of being nearly militant – damn I bet I was obnoxious) was a part of the personae that I constructed for myself over the years. I new people who had the same response towards eating meat. But I rebelled by being boring. Or mayhaps I'm just boring and am trying to look cool by calling it rebellion.

Probably the latter.

This is sad, as college should be a time where you try new things. But I'm a borderline hermit with some anxiety issues, so the whole 'new experiences' is quite stressful. Despite this, I was usually willing to taste various foods and drinks that came my way. In that, I've sampled well over 100 beers over the years – and have come to the conclusion that I hate beer(with the exception of the fruity Lambics).

I asked my sister, who loves beer, how she got past the bitterness and the foul taste of her preferred beverage. She told me that you drink it quickly, until you learn to associate that dreadful bottle of a skunk's ass soaked in battery acid with the warm and happy feeling that comes with imbibing. My sole attempt at following her advice lead me down the road to heaves.

I'm not interested in intoxication, no matter the drug involved. Never have been. It has never looked like much fun – though I would take getting drunk hands down over being on the receiving end of some prison sex(then again, maybe getting drunk was the first step in the whole prison sex escapade). And as I don't like the taste of alcoholic beverages, there was little point for me in drinking them.

So it goes. There it all is. Another shade of the bizarre sketch that is my character. Thank you anonymous blog for allowing me to share. Well, semi-anonymous, as like a narcissistic douche I tend to share these ramblings on the facebooks.

Well, earlier this autumn, or late summer, I decided to add alcohol to my diet. A friend asked why the change, and I've been thinking about that. But when you make a life change like this, after making opposition to that behavior a pillar of your being and how you present yourself to the world. More than one of my friends has expressed confusion and curiosity.

Most have just said “About fucking time you dick.”

We all have epiphanies at times, and change our minds when new evidence comes along. I try to remain somewhat open minded to new ideas. Mine came with a book. Though I do like to say that the new job has driven me to drink.

Over this summer I discovered Michael Pollan's book Cooked. I've not read anything else by him, but I've heard of some of his other works. Thanks NPR Science Friday! It was an all around interesting book that left me wanting to sample first-hand some of the experiences that Pollan wrote about. Sure, it was a bit heavy-handed and preachy at times, but damn do I want to try some of that southern slow-cooked whole hog BBQ. And the bread, oh that fresh-baked sourdough sounded so good! And just about everything else he wrote about.

The last section was where he finally touched on fermentation. First he stepped in lightly with the kraut and kimchi, before moving onto something that was definitely more a passion – mead and beer. Cool, I guess. Yawn. Oh, wait, what's this? The actual physical benefits that alcohol bestows? Not super powers that arrive with perceived invulnerability, nor the social lubricant aspect that comes with the liquid courage

No, according to Pollan moderate consumption of alcohol is just healthy for humans. Now you've my attention sir. Keep going.

I have no moral or ethical reason against drinking, as I stated previously. So I have nothing standing in the way of my starting, beyond my general disinterest. No reason to, no reason not to. I chose not to. This was less expensive.

Well, now my interest has been piqued and my decision made. Though, as with most decisions, sometimes it takes me a while to act. I finished Cooked back in June – and didn't crack my first bottle of booze until late August. I hate beer, so I really needed to find something that I would actually enjoy drinking.

I wanted to start out slowly, at home, until I had a good grasp of what would happen when I added alcohol into my system. As dull as that sounds. Mostly, I was worried that suddenly feeling dizzy or what-have-you, while out in public, would trigger an anxiety attack. Years of living with Anxiety has made me hyper aware of myself. To the point of paranoia. Harmless changes can bring on an attack if I fixate. I've largely learned to ignore these nuisances, and just keep going, but that doesn't help when throwing in unknown factors.

My first hope was Sprecher's Hard RootBeer. A rootbeer with added bourbon. So you can feel like an adult while you drink your definitively kid's beverage. I love Sprecher's products. Sprecher is a brewery that has expanded into a delicious array of sodas. They make their ginger ale with real ginger, and their root beer with honey. If you can lay your hands on some, do. The SHRB seemed liked a good way to just jump in and explore.

Sadly, after a month of searching, and several false starts, I have discovered that the SHRB has yet to make make it to my locality. At least, none of the specialty stores I contacted seem to be able to lay their hands on it.

Fekk.

Angry Orchard released a cinnamon flavored hard cider called Cinnful Apple. This is their seasonal offering for the autumn. A friend of mine posted about it on ye olde timey facebook(that Cinnful Apple existed, and that he intended to try it). This led to ephinay number 2. I love apples, and eat them often. I love to try different varieties (Braeburns are my favorite to date, but Sweet Tango and Jonagolds are close competitors).

Cider! Why didn't I think of that before?  I visited Angry Orchard's website, and I admit that I found their branding appealing.  That is to say, I liked what they were trying to convey with the names and accompanying art.  Really though, at 5% alcohol content, you will neither be scary nor badassed by drinking their product.  But who cares?  I'm scary and badassed enough dead sober!  Cue the laugh track!

I could even buy it at my local big-box by the case! Did someone say variety pack? Angry Orchard did! Perfect. I get to try four different elixirs. The first one I cracked open was the Cinnful Apple. I love cinnamon as much as much as I love apples. I was not disappointed by the experience. That was the high point.

For that first week, I tried a new flavor every night as I ate dinner. So many people like to drink wine and beer with their meals. Many of them claim that the flavor experiences are enhanced by the complex interplays between the various chemicals. This might be true. Mostly I discovered that I didn't care for either the Traditional Dry nor the Ginger varieties of Angry Orchard. Crisp was pleasant enough.

Wasting food is one of the few activities that I consider a 'mortal sin'. Gluttony is disgusting, but acceptable. But damn it, if your fat ass is taking a third helping of pie, your fat ass better choke that shit down. I didn't care for about half of that variety pack, but I drank it all. There are sober children in China damn it.

Well, since then I've been trying more brands. Woodchuck. McKenzies. As well as local varieties when I can locate them.  This last has been a challenge, almost as great as picking up the SHRB.

I found this out while at a friend's. She was having an autumn themed feast and I decided to pick up some ciders as my contribution. Woodchuck's Fall, and the aforementioned Cinnful apple. I had one of each. My reaction of Woodchuck's Fall, is that they've taken a potpourri shop and distilled its essence. Then they took that essence and used it to ruin cider. “It tastes like a candle!” was my first thought, as I rebelled against the flowery sweetness.

Here is where cleansed the pallet with a couple bottles of the Cinnful as I waited for our meal.

It appears that I have an alcohol tolerance that is on par with that of a 11 year old girl from a strict family of 4^th generation Mormons.

I already knew that I didn't much care for the aftertaste of alcohol. The sweetness of some of the cider helps to mask this. I have also confirmed that I don't really care for the vertigo sensation that comes with drinking. I always suspected that I wouldn't. After a bottle on an empty stomach, my sense of balance feels... a bit wonky. There's no stumbling around like a caricature, and the room doesn't quite spin. But everything seems to slid back and forth, like it wants to get started.

While this was happening, my muscles would hurt. Starting with my stomach and then working down to my legs. After the first experience I thought that this might be a coincidence, but it seems a rather regular occurrence. The internet states that Alcohol is a muscle relaxer and goes on to suggest that the pain comes from my muscles being tense.

Finally there was the sense of wellbeing, or happiness. You just feel good, and I can really see the appeal of drinking, especially after a shitty day(I have since cracked a bottle when I get home to relax on a number of occasions – yep, I've become a fauxhipster, watered-down version of that guy).

I look forward to the new experiences that this path will illuminate for me.  I've since decided that my future homestead will need an orchard.