Hazel's Hitchhiker

8: Tea v. Beer

Joey

We were back on the road as Hazel zoomed on the I-40. In just a short time, we were going to be in Arizona. Damn straight, I was pretty excited to be in Arizona. The only part of Arizona I had mostly ever been to was Yuma. It would be nice to see something other than Yuma. And I could only guess that we'd be still listening to Dave Ramsey once we reached Arizona.

"How's that Arizona Iced Tea?" I asked about halfway done with my beer.

"It's good. But you can't have a sip." She took another sip and took a Cheeto from her Munchies Bag.

About another minute later, she dug through the bag and came out with nothing. A few seconds later, her fingers went through the bag again and still came out with nothing.

"Damn, out of Cheetos." Learning to accept it, she reached in the bag for a pretzel and took another sip of her tea.

Looking at my bag of Cheetos, I came to the realization that I had plenty of them left. Why didn't I get Hot Cheetos? If Hazel hadn't rushed me, maybe I could've gotten some Hot Cheetos.

"You want my Cheetos?" I asked offering her the bag as it went in her lap.

She handed the bag back. "No thanks. I'm good. Your hands were in that bag. I'd prefer not to have your germs." With her sunglasses on, it was hard to tell if she was joking or not.

"Why didn't you just get a bag of Cheetos? Why Munchies?"

"I just hate the way my fingers get stained every time I get Cheetos. With Munchies, there's less Cheetos which means less chance to dirty my hands. Plus, I actually love Doritos. At a Superbowl Party last year, I ended up eating five large bags of Doritos and a large bag of Cheetos. In the end, Munchies make more sense."

"Interesting," I commented. "I honestly love getting my fingers dirty with Cheetos. Licking them is the fun part."

"And that Joey, is the reason I don't want your dirty Cheetos," she began smiling trying not to laugh. And in an interesting turn of events, my shoulder was smacked by her fist leaving chills down my spine.

My fist lightly smacked her shoulder back and grabbed her iced tea. "So what's the deal with this drink of yours? Are you a big fan of Arizona Iced Tea?"

No time was wasted in grabbing it back. "Yes actually. I basically live off this drink. Pretty much my version of alcohol." A silence took place between us only to be filled by Dave Ramsey. "Can I ask you something, Joey?" All of her iced tea was gone leaving the can to be crumpled and thrown in the back. "You said your dad drinks right? So would you say he's an alcoholic?"

With my eyes on the passenger window, I responded back not really wanting to talk about this subject.

"Yeah, he's pretty much the biggest piece of a shit alcoholic I know."

"Can I ask you something else?" Her voice came off a little hesitant. "You obviously love drinking." She let out a sigh. "If your dad is an alcoholic, why do you like drinking so much?"

Hazel caught me completely off guard with that question. For a long moment, I couldn't find the words to respond. Why did I like to drink so much? Why did I have a fake ID? Was I not that different from my dad? No, this was different. I was nothing like him. Once I came to that conclusion, a memory popped into my head and I was able to talk to Hazel about it.

"What the hell are you doing Joey?" screamed my mother while she cooked dinner.

My ten-year-old self had found a can of Bud Light sitting on the table and was seconds away from taking a sip.

"Nothing, I just wanted to take a sip of dad's beer." 

She took the can away from me and dumped it in the sink and made me go play outside. Crap! Outside? Every time my mom forced me to go outside, it was always a bad sign. And this time was no different. My ears heard my dad yelling at my mom once he came back from the bathroom. He didn't appreciate getting his beer poured in the sink. About an hour later, things became calm and it was time for dinner as we had spaghetti. Once dinner ended, my mom was tired and was ready to call it a night. The moment she was asleep, my dad wanted me to get in the truck and we went on a little short trip.

"How was school today boy?" he asked with a cigarette in his mouth and the window open.

"It was fine. We learned about division. And I don't get it."

"Yeah, math has always been hard for you. Ain't that the truth? We need to get you a tutor or something."

About twenty minutes later, we arrived in an empty field and my dad pulled his rifle out of the trunk of the truck. He claimed that we were going to shoot a deer. This was one of those rare times my dad took me hunting with him. It felt like Christmas Morning. There was so much excitement in the air. About an hour passed and nothing was happening until we spot a deer. My dad ordered me to stay quiet while he shot the deer. The deer wasn't aware of what was happening. My heart began racing as I saw the gun about to go off. Bam! The deer fell to its death and we put it in the trunk.

"You did it, dad!" My body jumped up and down.

To celebrate, he pulled out a case of Bud Light from the back seat of the truck and offered me a can of beer. My mom would be pissed if she saw what was happening. But my dad shot a deer. He was so cool. A moment later, I took my first sip of beer. It tasted like crap, but something about it felt amazing.

Another great chapter! Thanks for reading! Hope you're all doing well. Don't forget to comment and vote!

Have you ever tasted alcohol? If so, when?

Would you consider Joey's dad to be an alcoholic?

Could Joey easily become like his dad?