My first taste of beer.
I mean as far as I can remember I just know I didn’t like it not even a little bit. I was young maybe 5 or 6 and my dad was out in the front yard grilling his famous (to me at least) fajitas the smell would draw me over next to the grill. Something about being out in the warm weather standing over a grill smelling season meat cook really can get you to hold onto a memory, or the sick feeling that was soon to follow. My dad always marinated his fajita meet in a Budweiser among other things. He would go out by a 6 pack use one beer to prep the meat and slowly over the course of a weekend or two the other 5 would follow. My Father was never a heavy drinker he was he kept it away from the family the only time I saw him drink was when he would make fajitas.
So, there I am a young kid admiring his father doing something I always viewed as manly barbecuing and drinking a beer. The next few monuments wouldn’t change that opinion at all and I still hold it today. My father seeing me standing there staring at the drink in his hand thought this would be the chance to teach his son not to drink, it would work all the way up till I turned 21. He handed the tiny unknowing version of myself his can and told me to take a big swig and swallow it down I followed those instructions to the letter.
I grew up in a small town in Texas just north of Austin where I never saw real snow yet experienced some of the hottest days you could think of as a kid. This happened to be one of those warm Texas summer days that it reached triple digits. That heat mixed with the heat from the grill and time spent standing outside had warmed that beer up nicely to well above room tempter. I got sick almost immediately riding my stomach of the beer and anything I might have had as a snack in the past few hours. It is a memory that sticks with me to this day.
My father now laughing and carrying larg smile plastered across his bearded face looked down at me and said a phrase I can hear echoed in my mind every time I grab a beer today. ” that right there son is why you don’t drink beer.’ I didn’t drink another beer till I turned 21.
Today my Father still doesn’t drink a lot and hardly ever around his family. Yet every once in a while, he grabs a six pack of Budweiser and cooks up a batch of those fajitas.