None of my friends ever pressured me. But, my "cool" older cousins did. Even my father did: when I was about five or six, he and his buddies were sitting on the back stoop prepping frogs legs after they'd been "frog gigging." They were all three sheets to the wind and I was sent to deliver another six pack to them. One of them offered me a drink from his can. I pulled a face and they all laughed. Then, my dad got the idea of making me taste it. It was my "daddy" and daddy wouldn't give me anything bad… right? They all cheered and laughed when I swallowed the stuff and egged me on to drink more. My dad let me give in to that crap for half a can (according to my mother).

Then, there were those parties – in particular, frat parties – where someone was always trying to push a boozy something into your hand. Best defense there was to get something you absolutely couldn't stand to drink (for me, that would be whisky or Everclear) and rub some on your lips and neck (when no one was looking – and be sure to flick some droplets into your hair), then sip it just enough to have it on your breath and nurse the glass all night long.