Bombarded With Booze

(My family and I go on holiday to ski, and we do the usual skiing holiday stuff: go down slopes, stay in chalets to eat and rest, gather for dinner in an osteria, and so on. I am only a few years old, so most of my time there is spent with a ski teacher, but one day my mom leaves me in the care of my 14-year-old sister and her tagalong friend. After spending most of the afternoon going down gentle slopes and playing in the snow, my sister and her friend decide to stop at a bar for a bit. We are in Italy.)

Sister: “Hey, [My Name], you want hot chocolate, right?”

Me: *nods*

Sister: “[Friend], go pick up two bombardini and a shot of vodka.”

Me: “What’s a bombardino?”

Sister: “Hot chocolate with whipped cream!”

Me: “Oh.”

(I trust her on that and wait at the table. Then, my sister’s friend comes back with two tall glasses full of a brown liquid topped by whipped cream, and a tiny glass of clear liquid.)

Sister: “Here. Be careful, it’s hot!”

(I take a sip. I immediately feel a very, very bitter taste in my mouth, as my stomach churns and my mouth feels cottoned. I get up in a panic and run outside the bar’s palisade before stopping, kneeling, and vomiting profusely. My sister’s friend runs up to me.)

Friend: *yelling* “Why did you actually let him drink it?!”

Sister: *shocked* “I didn’t think alcohol could be that bad for him.”

(For the uninitiated, a bombardino is a cocktail composed of eggnog, brandy, coffee, and whipped cream. When I got back to the hotel, I looked absolutely miserable, my mom forbade my sister from watching over me for a long time, and I got a distaste for alcoholic drinks.)