In June of 1996 I was on an airplane on my way to the United States. I was working a summer job in a Christian summer camp in Wisconsin. Going to America for the first time I was really exited and curious about the country, the people and basically everything that was connected to this adventure.

Now my birthday was the 19th of Juli which meant that halfway through my three-month trip I would finally reach the ripe old age of twenty-one. Not a significant birthday for a European but a very significant one for an American as I was soon to discover.

On my very first weekend I went with four of my new-found friend to Milwaukee, the beer capital of the united states and so we went on a tour of the Pabst brewery. The tour was not very interesting, but we went with only one goal in mind. Free beer-tasting once we completed the tour.

I was by now quite aware that legally entitled to buy any alcohol, but my friends assured me, that this didn't mean I would be missing out. Just pretend you're twenty-one and it'll be all-right.

So when we got the end of the tour and the bartender poured the first beer asking who would be the first one to try it, I coolly stretched out my hand, indicating I would be glad to.

"Can I see some ID please" the bartender asked politely, apparently feeling my baby face didn't put me over twenty-one. I declined showing him my ID and just asked for a Coke instead. My friend Gary slapped me on the shoulder sympathizingly and said, "Good try!" Before walking over to the bartender and taking the beer that had been denied me. His British hooligan look hiding the fact that he was only nine-teen.

The counselors in camp ranged from 16 to 23. I don't know how much drinking was going on, but as far as i could tell nobody drank during the week with the kids around. When it came to the children in the camp all the counselors seemed to have incredible maturity, clearly they had been taught well.

However during the weekend everyone was drinking and with abandon. We drunk in places where there was no supervision, like peoples' apartments, in parks or in cars. And I couldn't help but reflect how different the attitude to drinking was here than I was used to back home.

At home drinking was a social activity, not an act of youthful rebellion and so at the dinner table I was introduced to drinking wine. We didn't drink wine every evening, but when we did I would sometimes try some. At first I didn't like it very much and so I would drink

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