Hell No #1
So Mr. Lime, Isaac, and I went out for dinner. The waitress came to take our drink order. Mr. Lime ordered a Guinness. I ordered a hard cider. The waitress looked at Isaac and asked what he wanted. He was flipping around in the menu trying to find where they listed the sodas they had available. He could not find it. The waitress reached over and handed my 16 year old son the cocktail menu. Being either relatively innocent or trying to make sure he didn't get in trouble he began looking in there for the soda menu. The waitress began showing him where the beer listing was. Finally, Mr. Lime interjected with some firmness, "He'll have a ROOT BEER." Isaac looked up in his consternation and added with relief, "Yeah, root beer. I like root beer. That's what I'd like. Thank you."
His father an I were looking at each other in incredulity. Granted Isaac is 6'2" and often passes for older than 16 but he does still have a face full of pimples...and we live in a college town...where underage drinking can be an issue...so most restaurants card anyone who appears to be under 30. Isaac finally noticed our surprised expressions and gave an innocent, "What? What's going on?" I informed him that the waitress seemed to think he was legal to drink. Isaac was deflated to realize he had missed what he thought was a golden opportunity.
Hell No #2
During the same dinner I ordered my second pint of hard cider. I am not a heavy or even frequent drinker by any stretch of the imagination but I do know how to pace myself so I don't often get tipsy and very rarely get drunk. Mr. Lime has seen me legless only twice in 25 years. However, this was less than a week after surgery and halfway through my second pint I noted with surprise that I was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. Given that I had been sipping not slurping and that I had food in my stomach I surmised I was still working out some of the drugs in my system if it were hitting me this quickly and stated my intention to slow down. Isaac was piqued. "You're drunk?" I told him I was feeling the effects but not trashed.
"Well chug it, Mom! I want to see you drunk!"
"Not on your life, boy."
"Dad, have you ever seen Mom drunk? What's she like?"
I arched a single eyebrow at Mr. Lime suggesting he choose his words carefully as I remembered that the second time he saw me completely blasted was only last summer and that the friends we were with found it so hilarious they are still talking about it. He just smiled and said, "Happy. She's just a reeeeeeaaally happy drunk." Which is true and all the boy ever needs to know.