It was 1998 and I was big into popping over the counter drugs.
No-Doze
Benadryl
Nyquil
You name it, I stole it. Mostly from the K-Mart up the street. One handful was a mix-match of fun. Everyone around me drank, but I took my pills and floated off into my own little wonderland. I listened to a lot of Denis Leary. I sang the Asshole song with my head hung out the window of a friend's beat-up 1980's Camry. I was happy to escape reality, even if only for a short time.

I refused to drink. The years of Alateen I endured while growing up had me saying to everyone, "I will never, ever drink."

My name is Drunk Girl, and I was a big fat liar. Eventually an 8 ball showed up with the kids I hung around with. Yes, cocaine. I was a freshman and hadn't had one sip of hooch. I smoked cigarettes and had smoked a little green now and then, but that was it. Suddenly, I was sitting on a friend's pool patio cutting up lines on a mirror.  Within minutes, I had poured myself a glass of Canadian Whiskey.

Is weed the gateway drug? Is alcohol the gateway drug? Is advil the gateway drug? Is cocaine the gateway drug?

Whatever it was, I had found my soulmate; my drug of choice. I had become Drunk Girl. The booze toting superhero.