A few nights after the success of the play, My Three Angels, the director held a party at her home to celebrate. The majority of the people who worked on the play were adults, Rusty and I were the only kids who attended the party. When I arrived at the party there were some young sailors who had worked on the play that I hadn't had much contact with when I was doing make-up. We met and began talking with one another.
In the meantime, most of the adults were having fun eating, drinking and dancing. There was a bar and drinks were free, so there was much celebrating. One of the young sailors saw his chance and brought me a shot of whiskey. Up to this time I had never had a drink of anything alcoholic. I wasn't sure about having a drink, but the sailor talked me into it. I drank the shot, bottoms up. I complained about the taste, but soon the sailor was bringing me more to drink. I drank anything anyone handed me, including vodka, gin and rum. Before long, I was out on the dancing floor, doing the cha-cha, which I didn't know how to do. I was having a great time! After much partying, I passed out on the couch. Late that night, one of the young sailors woke me, telling me he was going to take me home.
So I climbed into the passenger side of his pick-up truck and he started driving towards my house. I began to feel wheezy as we drove, and he realized I was about to be sick. Not wanting me to barf in his truck, he pulled over to the side of the road, jumped out and helped me out of the truck. As soon as I stood up, I began vomiting. I was wearing a dress with a full skirt, and in an attempt to keep me from barfing all over my clothes, he tried to pull my dress closer to my body. I interpreted this as an attempt to get fresh, and turned around and whacked him across his face as hard as I could.
He was kind enough to continue to drive me home. I think I thanked him, I'm really not sure. It was about 2:00 a.m. I went into the house, where everyone was fast asleep, and took a shower and went to bed.