When I was little, my favorite flavor in the entire world was grape. I sought out grape anything with the level of commitment a heroin addict does for his next fix. I remember this much. If anyone had anything in their respective glass that looked anything like grape juice, I would sneak over and inhale it in short order. There was one particular nasty episode of this when I stumbled on blackberry brandy and proceeded to spew the foul substance from my face as quickly as possible. I’m pretty sure I took out some upholstered furniture.
Between the age of about two-three, I came down with the flu. I’d been given some grape-flavored dimetapp because duh, how else do you get nasty crap down a kids throat than coated in their favorite flavor? Apparently, just this little spoonful was enough to trigger my need for a real “fix” of grapey goodness. I went to seek out of the source.
Like most children, I managed to find the bottle of dimetapp on the shelf that I should not have been able to reach and quickly popped open the childproof cap since the only thing those things keep out is adults. I chugged downed most of the bottle.
Mind you, this was back when cough syrup mostly contained alcohol, so in short order I was slurring and stumbling around to go find grand and mom and say, “wahnnsmmmooohrrrr.” After a brief period of freaking the fuck out, mom and grand called Poison Control to tell them their toddler just OD’ed on cough syrup.
Once they stopped laughing their ass off, they assured them both I would be fine but I would probably crash for a good twelve hours and I probably possessed the “dryest nose in the state.” Like any good drunk, I did pass the hell out. I also don’t recall any grape syrup ever being purchased again during my childhood.