As I write this post, I just came home from my friend Bong's twentieth birthday party at their house in nearby Moonville. Turns out the party was in need of drinks, ice, chicken and paper napkins, so when I came around, I volunteered to drive Bong around Doña Soledad Ave. to look for what they needed.

When we got back to Bong's almost an hour later, we still had to wait for his other friends. Old school mates Paulo, Jared, Mac and Patrick soon arrived, as well as Kelvin, Maan and Kim with his girlfriend Gel, from Meycauayan, Bulacan province. Bar a slow start, we took to the beer and brandy. Patrick and I were the exceptions, as I brought a car and Patrick had to carry his bro Mac in their scooter home.

The party was a loose festival of drinking, snacks and singing, with Kelvin and Kim taking turns on Paulo's guitar and the rest of us singing pop songs. At some point before midnight, my new friends got drunk enough to challenge Bong to drink an entire plastic glass of iced Fundador brandy, which he gamely participated to. He downed that amber liquid straight.

Kim and the others challenged Bong to do more before they left: they had him finish off what was left of the brandy bottle, which amounted to a bit more than half a glass. Gel remarked that Bong might not handle the second dose, but he gulped it anyway. Loud cheers erupted from our little al fresco table, still unable to believe that Bong indeed downed that much brandy.

I got concerned as he looked rather wobbly already. After Bong mustered enough composure to wave Kim and the others goodbye, he sat down and hurled his dinner at the stone floor.

Twice.

All of us who were left were concerned, hovering around Bong, asking if he was okay, making him sit up straight in his chair. We simply cleaned up our mess instead, as he remained in his seat, hunched over to the side, his fist on the ground, covered with spew. Then we called his elder sister for help before I left for home.

This is the second time I've been to a drinking party, apart from my family's usual "red wine, champagne, margarita and Mule" holiday family affairs in White Plains. However this is the first time I've seen one of my friends hurl, and frankly it didn't feel good. I really felt bad for Bong, especially when he was muttering while we were cleaning up.

I'm going to wait until I'm 35 to reap the benefits of the 3-glasses-a-day-of-red-wine habit. I can't trust my soon-to-be-twenty-year-old self to drive, even with a sip of alcohol. It takes a bit of patience trying to blend in with accomplished drinkers (i.e. most of the people my age), but I suppose, given my love for the open road, maybe it's a worthy trade.
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"I need to know the truth. Do you still love me?"

I do. I really really do. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I don't want to make you sad anymore, much more see you sad. Like I said before, you deserve to be happy.