Then I met guy named Troy. He was outgoing, charismatic, and a good Irish boy. I liked him a lot, but I honestly didn't know him that well. We were scarcely more than acquaintances, but his death affected me greatly. His heart gave out from a drug overdose. From what I understand he passed almost instantly, just winked out of this world. I never even considered any of the harder drugs after that.
Having been a fine Irish boy, he had a fine Irish wake. Nearly everyone he ever knew was there. It was a grand party. We sang, we drank, we ate. We told stories about our friend, and celebrated his life. People went streaking. I hid their clothes.
He had requested that at his wake, people float a keg of Guinness in his honor. I disliked Guinness, but I liked my friend. Cup after cup of it went into me. When I thought that I could stomach no more of the vile stuff I took a deep breath, manned up, and drank some more. I drank because I cared. There was a point, somewhere in the drunken haze, that the taste of Guinness became forever linked to love.
So now whenever I drink a beer, it tastes a little bit like happiness.
Has something ever happened to seriously change your mind about something you felt strongly about?
P.S. - Sorry about the back-to-back serious posts. It'll be lighter tomorrow, promise!