Earth at 16

Dublin (Ireland), Earth, Sol System

As a kid who'd spent his life on a distant colony, travelling to Earth for a month at 16 was a real recipe for disaster.

That year, it wasn't the Colgans who came to meet me at Terminal 8.  Instead, I was greated by none other than the terrible child Yoraìn Greene himself.

He kept on saying how he couldn't wait to hear about space travel, yet he wouldn't stop talking.  I'd mostly just laugh as his lame stories about girls, drinks and games.

Yoraìn was, as usual, very polite and well-mannered in front of my grand-parents.  For my part, I hardly had the time to drop my stuff at the Colgans' and hug Grand-Mother before he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me outside.

The sun was shining, it smelled good, the girls were beautiful and Yoraìn was pretending to be Oscar Wilde.

Fifteen minutes later, it started pouring rain.  We walked to the nearest pub and then I woke up sick, wondering where time had gone.  It was my first experience with drinking.  The Colgans weren't going to be too impressed, but I knew they'd let it slip as long as it didn't become a habit.  I could hear them in the distance talking with Yoraìn, probably lecturing him.

He sent me a message later, saying he was sorry, and that he should've taken into account that this lifestyle wasn't one I was used to, on New Lhasa, and that to make it up he'd pay me the next round that night.