I was 17 and had a huge fight with my mom. She insisted I go to my friend's birthday party at a restaurant downtown because she felt bad about our fight.
It was Valentine's Day and the restaurant was decked out in foil heart shaped balloons. I grabbed one for myself and hung on to it all night, despite offers of cash for it.
My friend's mom and dad ordered wine with dinner, and I had some. I don't know how much I had, but I got wasted.
They took me home and my parents' driveway is really steep and it had melted and then frozen, making it a sheet of ice. My friend and her mom were helping me up the driveway and I fell flat on my face, dragging them down with me, and promptly vomited all over myself.
They got me to the house, where my friend's mom apologised over and over for my state. She and my parent's knew each other well, so there wasn't really a huge issue. I, of course, was utterly pissed and did not even care that I was utterly busted. Covered in vomit, I pointed proudly at the balloon tied to my wrist and said:
"This guy offered me dive follars for my bufloon" *Hic* "Hee hee"
My parents put me to bed with a pot nearby, choosing not to battle with the happy little drunk that had been delivered to them. That night my dad apparently said to my mom "I thought she doesn't drink..."
To which mom replied "Isn't that obvious?"
I didn't get in shit. In fact, the next day they let me sleep quite late, finding humor in my initiation to wine.