The first vacation I took without my parents, was to London, with a couple of friends.
Two guys, two girls.
We must have been all around 17 years old and were pretty excited about the trip, especially because we also planned our first night out ever.
Yes, we were a bunch of Goody-good kids.
We sat down in one of those typical English pubs.
After some terribly goofy flirting with the waiter, who was quite interested in the fact that we were foreigners, the guys decided to man up and get us some drinks.
At that time our English wasn’t the best, even though we practice a lot before how to order drinks.
P.’s English was the best, so he went up to the bar and nervously made the order
“2 beers and Coke please”, he said.
The waiter looked suspicious at him.
“Hey ya’ll, there’s a Dutch man here asking for coke”, he shouted out, “should I trust it”.
People started laughing.
P turned red.
“Only beer then”, he stuttered.
That’s the first zip I had of an alcoholic beverage.