Lemondrop

In most ways, I'm your pretty average college student -- I hate early morning classes, I can't stand dining hall food, and I'm always tired. Until recently, I thought I was pretty normal when it came to drinking.

I had my first drink at 15, my first shot at 16 (all behind my parents' backs), and by the time I was 17, I more or less knew my limits. Freshman year of college came and went and included a slew of frat parties where I never knew what I was drinking: Sometimes it tasted like watered-down Kool-Aid, sometimes it was more like Everclear Jell-O shots. Sometimes I was stone-cold sober and sometimes I blacked (or browned) out.

This year brought house parties -- BYOB house parties. At first, it wasn't too bad. A cranberry and vodka with three or four shots was enough for me to be more social, but I could still wake up and make it to the gym by 11 the next morning.

My wake-up call came second semester. During the first week of March, I went to a house party with friends, made a water bottle with six or seven shots of vodka and pomegranate-blueberry juice and was out the door. The party wasn't fun. Actually, it was terrible, so I drank (read: chugged) half of my water bottle in about five minutes. I felt nothing. A friend had a few gulps and was instantly wasted. When I had three or four additional shots of the stuff, and still felt nothing, I knew I was in trouble. It felt like vodka, not blood, was running through my veins, and I knew my tolerance had reached scary-high limits.

That night, I decided that I wasn't drinking for the entire month of March. It was a way to save money and calories, but mostly it was to bring my tolerance way down. There was just one problem: Spring break fell right in the middle of my month-long sobriety test, and I had a fun-filled week in St. Augustine, Fla., planned. I wasn't sure if I could survive not drinking, but I decided to take it day-by-day. Here's a record of my little experiment:

Monday
When we get to my friend M's family condo, we immediately look at the stash -- after all, we were welcome to (drink) anything we wanted. Our friends Grey Goose, Patron Silver, Malibu, Goldschlager and Peppermint Schnapps stared back. It was everything I love but am too poor to buy myself! And my poor timing didn't go unnoticed. "Good one, Lizzi. When's the next time you'll be able to have Grey Goose for free?!" my friends mocked. Instead we headed to the beach, water bottles (filled with water) in tow. I got bronze, but M's fair skin reddened to the point of pain. Later that night I watch her jealously as she did shots to ease the burn.

Tuesday
Another day at the beach with water bottles. I'm starting to think that R and M resent me for not drinking. Both of them have been my "wildest" friend at some point in our college careers, and I think they don't want me to feel left out. Then, at dinner, it gets worse when some guys buy our drinks for us. I (politely) decline while R and M take in the sunset, mojitos in hand. Back at the condo, I fall asleep as they play the New Moon drinking game late into the night.

Wednesday
We watch "Good Morning America" as we wake up and learn that a glass of wine with breakfast is helpful/healthy. R helps herself to one (or two.) M's burn has become too painful to do anything, so we forgo the beach for touristy attractions and have a blast -- more fun than I thought you could have touring landmarks sober. We keep getting texts from friends in Panama City -- my boy N summarizes his time there like this: "It's the best and worst three days I've had in my entire life." But I'm glad I'm not partying wasted. R and M want to make margaritas, then decide against it. I realize I don't remember the last non-academic day that we'd all been (almost 100 percent) sober.

Thursday
We know our college town will be cold and gross when we get back, so we go to the beach for the last time. R meets some guys who tell her to text them because they want us to come over later. Although all four are attractive and two have great abs, R throws the number away. She says none were cute enough to merit a callback. I sense that her days of random, potentially dangerous parties are behind her. Plus, we have an 11-hour drive the next day, so we leave the alcohol cabinet untouched and spend the last night cleaning and laughing before our 8 a.m. wake-up call.

Friday
We leave the beautiful Florida sunshine in the early morning -- with the handle of vodka still intact, unopened and thus legal for the drive ahead. We all had a blast over spring break -- and texts and calls from Panama City are still pouring in. Our friends report fights, hospital visits, blackouts and missed flights. Maybe my spring break wasn't as wild as everyone else's, but I had so much drama-free fun, I wouldn't change it for the world.

So I did it: I survived spring break (and the whole month of March!) without drinking any alcohol. It was difficult at times, but definitely doable. And my tolerance? Thankfully, now I don't have to drink a quarter of a handle of vodka to get drunk anymore -- but at least right now, I don't think I need any to have a blast with my friends.