“What are you doing on Saturday night?”  “I dunno.” “Ya wanna make some money?”  “Sure. What’s the deal?” “There’s a wedding at the Sephardic Temple.  They need Busboys.  And, it’s a BYOB event.”  “What’s BYOB” “Bring your own bottle.” “It should be fun.”  “Okay, I’ll see you there.”  It was 1962,  I was 15.  Being a BusBoy was pretty easy work.  The couple gets married.  They eat.  We clean up.  I’m guessing everyone was gone about 11:00 PM.  The Bus Boys were the only ones left in the synagogue.  We finished the clean up and … look what was sitting on each table?  Booze.  I’d never seen so much booze.  We looked around and realized that the guests left the booze and went home.  So, what were a group of 15 year old boys supposed to do?  We each grabbed a bottle and proceeded to drink.  I grabbed the bottle marked J&B.  It was mostly full.

Since I had very little experience with alcohol (other than Manischewitz Wine on Passover), I thought I should give it a try.  “Hey let’s go bowling.” “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”  As we walked to the bowling alley I took a swig..  And, another swig.  And, another swig and another swig.  We arrived at the bowling alley and I took a final swig. I’d say I took a good stab at drinking the bottle dry.

We traded out our shoes for bowling shoes and walked over to the lane.  I picked up a ball and slid down the alley as I threw the ball with all of my power down the lane.  A strike.  No, wait.  Two strikes.  Well, it sure looked that way.  Two sets of pins all went down at once. I turned around and fell over the ball return.  And, that’s all I remember.

The next day I was told my friend carried my body home.  My mother answered the door.  “Is he dead?”  “”No, Mrs. Silverman.  I think he just had too much to drink.”  They carried my seemingly lifeless body to my bed and tossed me into it.  I slept through the night and half of the next day.  Hmmm…. J&B … maybe not the best choice.  Maybe I should try Southern Comfort next time around?