///seanblog///

I went to high school in West Des Moines, Iowa, in the 90s. We didn’t have iPhones, Facebooks, or the internet at all, really, but that wasn’t because it was Iowa, it was because it was the 90s. Pretty much all we had was booze.

The title of this post is the name of a game that I played on the night of my high school senior prom in 1997. I took a friend (from our crosstown rival high school) to the prom, but promptly dropped her off at home after the dance. Being unencumbered for the rest of the evening, I joined the rest of my friends at a hotel room downtown to celebrate … something.

The guys were, for the most part, still in whatever they wore to the dance, though the suit jackets and ties were long gone and the shirts were untucked. The girls, however, had all changed back into jeans and t-shirts. The mood was light and the beer was cheap. A few bottles of actual liquor were here and there, some supplied by the parents of those in attendance, but definitely not mine.

At its peak, our hotel room probably held at least 30 people from my high school class, most of whom had gone to the dance for a little while and then to the official “afterprom” party at a local mall, as we had. I hate to sound like a “too cool for school” cliché, but the afterprom party was very, very lame. Which is why you had to have a hotel room.

At some point during the night, after the drinks had already been flowing for a while and people were strewn about the room in various states of consciousness and undress, my friend Gene asked me if I want to play The Vodka Game.

Gene was Russian by descent (his name was a slightly Americanized version of his Russian name). His parents spoke only Russian, and we always got a laugh out of watching him argue with them in their native tongue as he negotiated for a later curfew or had to explain why the trunk of his car was full of (illegal) fireworks. Gene often used his background as an icebreaker, especially with girls, and I don’t blame him. He preferred to drink straight vodka, though I always thought a part of that was just for show.

I had never heard of The Vodka Game, but I was already halfway drunk and more than willing to give it a try. Gene picked up two identical glasses off the bar and took them and a large (plastic) bottle of vodka into the bathroom. (Plastic bottle vodka is a lot cheaper and just as effective.) He returned a minute later with the two glasses, both filled to the brim, and set them in front of him on the counter. He instructed me to stand opposite him as some of our friends gathered around us.

“Okay, here’s how you play The Vodka Game. One of these is straight vodka and one is water. You have to choose one and slam it. You can’t get any closer to them until you’re ready to drink. No touching, no tasting, and no smelling. Whichever one you choose, you have to drink it immediately and completely. If you choose the vodka, you lose, but you can chase it with the water. If you choose the water, you win, and you choose the next person to play.”

I studied the two glasses from where I stood but couldn’t see any difference in their contents. It truly was a game of chance. Not one to back down from a challenge (and probably also deciding who I was going to choose for the next round), I decided on one of the glasses.

“Okay,” Gene said, “on the count of three, you have to slam it.”

1.

2.

3. I grabbed the glass on the right and rushed it to my lips, trying not to smell it. If it was The Vodka, I wanted it gone, quickly. It was The Vodka. Everyone knew it immediately because of the way I winced, and they all burst out laughing.

“Dammit,” I thought, “I lost.” I finished the glass and banged it back down on the counter. My face was red and I was gasping for air as cheap vodka burned my throat.

“Quick! Drink the water!” Gene yelled. It was the best idea I’d heard all night. I definitely needed something to wash the taste out of my mouth. I grabbed the other glass, still reeling from the first, and chugged it.

It, too, was vodka.

And that’s all that I remember from that night.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, internet.