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2 years ago
Screwdrivers
There’s something about being with friends that makes everything humorous. In this particular case, it might have been the fact that we had just snuck in a 26 of vodka right under the teachers’ noses. Smirnoff, of course: the thrill of consuming a prohibited substance didn’t stop us from being classy. Come on, did our so-called “supervisors” really expect the senior boys not to drink booze on the school ski trip? Probably! But if you had any idea who we were, you would know that only encouraged us further. We thought we were so cool.
“Lock the door,” Hondo directed. “And put towels underneath to block the light.”
My crafty Vietnamese friend put down two large brown paper bags triumphantly on the carpeted floor of our hotel room. Hondo had that overly-joyous geeky smile on his face that I’d seen so many times. Whether he got an “A” on his math test, called a girl fat, or tried to play innocent, it was always the same look. His grin was so wide, I swear I could’ve fit a banana inside his mouth.
“One bottle, that’s it? I thought you guys wanted to drink tonight.”
“What! It’s plenty, you’ll see.”
My sarcasm never rubbed off on Hondo too well. He always took the defensive road. I was about to make fun of him for being a lightweight when I suddenly remembered I was in a locked room full of three other Asians. Sometimes the white man can’t always win. I pulled the other contents out of the bags: plastic cups, and a large container of orange juice. Screwdrivers are usually more of a breakfast cocktail. But when you’re 17 and thirsty, “picky” doesn’t exist in your dictionary. It was past midnight already (and our supposed “curfew”). I had barely finished opening the juice when Kim grabbed it from me.
“I gonna mix the drink.” His thick Korean accent would never grow old.
Kim hastily set up five of the giant-sized cups and filled them to the top with orange juice and vodka. He seemed pleased with himself until we called him a dumb ass for mixing it all at once. My other two friends Xie and Junie grabbed their drinks as we raised them together in a cheers.
“To an awesome ski trip!” I proclaimed.
“And don’t forget the grog on the slopes,” Hondo quipped in. He had that same grin on his face again. Grog, the Czech word for tea and rum, just happened to be an excellent throat warming liquid for the chilly ride up the mountain. We clashed our drinks together and downed the sweet fiery liquid in unison.
…..
2.33am. Bored and unable to sleep, I pulled out my phone to text my girlfriend.
R u coming up? I wrote. Five minutes past, and still no response. She must have fallen asleep. So much for her sneaking up to see me. Across the room my snowboard was leaning against the wall in all it’s Burton glory. Okay it was a rental, but I still thought its graphic design was pretty cool: a steel blue cat smoking a cigar. As I laid, my thoughts drifted towards the end of the school year. The excitement of graduating was equally matched with fear and appreciation for the present. I never realized until that moment that everything amazing happening in my life would be gone by the end of the summer. A new life in Canada awaited me, a university life.
Who knows, I pondered. Maybe it will all just be one great adventure to tell one day.
My eyes slowly began adjusting to the lack of light. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was exhausted, and my eyelids reflexively closed as I drifted off into a deep sleep. Little did I know of the stories to come from my future trip across the Atlantic.
Notes
about me:
freelance writer and student at the university of western ontario.
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