Frank awoke from sleep so sound he couldn't even begin to imagine anything at all. As his senses slowly came in to focus he realized he was lying on a very hard surface. The next thing that came to him was that he had a pounding headache.

Getting beyond the headache was difficult, but another body sensation was getting through just the same. He needed to take a leak, and badly at that. He managed to pull himself to a sitting position. As his hand touched the floor he felt a stickiness that made him queasy.

In addition, it was pitch black, wherever he was. For that matter, why in the hell didn't he know? He had never woken up in an unfamiliar place before. He had a vague recollection of having gone out to a party somewhere, that would explain the headache, but where was he now? He managed to get to his feet with quite a bit of effort, only to find that was very unsteady on his feet.

Unable to see anything, he fished around in his pocket for his lighter. It didn't help much, but enough to make out that he seemed to be in some sort of basement. How the hell had he gotten there? He couldn't remember. He made his way to a wall and felt along it until he came to a flight of cement stairs. Thankful that he had found a way out he climbed them slowly, using the feeble light from the lighter to keep from tripping up. He got to the top and groped for a door handle, but couldn't find one. He held the lighter closer, and to his horror discovered that what should have been a door was in fact a brick wall. The doorway had been sealed over.

A chill went down his spine, and for a moment he forgot all about his hangover. He dropped down heavily on a step and pondered his situation. There were two large pieces of wood propped against the bricks, as though holding up the wall. It made no sense at all. He tried not to consider the idea that he was trapped in this place, whatever it was, but the idea formed in his mind all the same, like a creeping nightmare that would not be denied.

What could he have done to cause someone to seal him into a basement? He vaguely remembered a story by Edgar Allen Poe wherein that very thing had happened. He tried desperately to remember what he had done. He went to a party. Yes, it was a co-workers party. She had invited him a week or so ago, and he had gone, and he had a good time. A little too good a time, apparently.

As he pondered his situation he realized that there was the smell of stale urine in the air. Reminded that he really needed to go, he made his way back down the stairs and groped his way to a corner and relieved himself. He moved a bit further and put his back against the wall and listened intently. Nothing, no sound at all. This was bad. He tried to get hold of himself and think things through, but his head was pounding.

He rubbed his eyes and gave himself a pep talk. He had to explore further, find out if there was another door. He groped his way along, not wanting to use his lighter too much because he hadn't refilled it recently and he was afraid it would give out. He moved along the wall, trying to remember which direction he had come from. As he did so, he tripped on something on the floor and landed face down, banging his left knee on the concrete floor, sending waves of pain up his leg.

He sat up quickly and cursed a blue streak. This certainly wasn't doing his hangover any good, but at least it was giving him other things to think about. He stood up and realized he had lost any sense of which direction he was facing. He got out his lighter, gave it a flick and inched forward cautiously. After a few hesitant steps he came to a wall and put the lighter away. He inched along the wall and realized, just as stepped into something wet and the smell of urine grew stronger that he had found his way back to where he had relieved himself. In other words, he was back to square one.

Despair was doing it's best to overtake him now, and he put his hands over his eyes and tried to remain calm. That Edgar Allen Poe story keep insisting on staying at the front of his thoughts, and he did his best to hold the idea that he was just scared, that no one would want to seal him into a basement to starve to death. That thought reminded him that he hadn't eaten for quite awhile and could really do with some food. He searched his pockets, but to no avail.

He mustered his will and began feeling his way along the wall again; stepping carefully to avoid whatever he had tripped over last time. This time when he reached the object he reached down and discovered it was large piece of wood like the ones propped against the wall at the top of the stairs. Well, at least he was making progress. He continued inching along the wall.

As he felt his way along he reached a seam in the wall. He got out his lighter and in the ever diminishing flame he could make out a hinge. He had found a door! He felt along it and realized it was metal. He felt a little further and came to a handle. Pushing down on it and leaning into the door he stumbled outside into bright daylight, which stabbed his eyes, causing him to close them and put his arm over his face. When he could bear the light he discovered he was at the steps of a basement door that led up to the sidewalk.

He staggered up the stairs and looked around. Ah yes. This was the neighborhood his co-worker lived in. Her apartment was a couple of blocks away. The night before began to come back to him and he remembered leaving and heading for the subway and needing to pee. There had been people around, but he had spotted this abandoned warehouse and had gone down the steps and through the door to relieve himself.

He couldn't remember anything after that, but he surmised he must have blacked out in the basement. He had really tied one on, he remembered people telling him he should quit. As he made his way down the street to the subway home the wind blew a flyer against his chest and he pulled it off and looked at it.

It read: Do you have a problem with alcohol? We know what's it's like and we can help. Confidentiality assured. Call 555-2341.

He crumpled up the flyer and tossed it aside heading for the subway.

The human brain matures by the time you reach 18, right? Wrong. At least according to professor Harlene Hayne of the University of Otago. Using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI scanning) researchers have found that adult functioning does not eventuate until you reach your mid-20's. Anecdotal evidence has been telling us this for ages, for some reason most countries in the western world insist on pronouncing 18 year olds to be adults, as though making it legal for them to drink and vote makes it so. The folly of that has been staring us in the face for decades now.

Adolescence is a time of rapid brain development. (I can hear the more cynical of us begging to differ on that) Hayne says, "The brain is most vulnerable when it is undergoing very rapid periods of development, which is why the human fetal brain is so influenced by prenatal exposure to alcohol."

The development of a safe, non-invasive technology has made it possible to study the brains of young people while they performed mental tasks. (Oh stop, they do too!) Haynes continues, "We see, in fact, the adolescent brain is highly susceptible to damage and it's also highly receptive to new experience, which is what makes teaching adolescents such a rewarding experience, because their brain is really poised to process information in a very new way. The developmental changes in the late-adolescent brain are both its biggest weakness and its greatest strength, and it's up to those of us who work with them on a daily basis to arrange circumstances that facilitate growth and minimise harm."

Adolescents are more risk-prone and less risk-averse because their brains are reward driven. This is due to the development of the dopamine system. They're also more responsive to certain classes of drugs, including alcohol, which can lead to problems of over consumption and addiction. Research shows that those who have a history of alcohol consumption have lower functioning brains than those who don't.

The implications of all this are plain to see. In my part of the world, and i'm guessing in America too, teenage alchohol consumption is rising at an alarming rate. Especially among girls, who are doing their damndest to outdo their male counterparts. The extent of the damage won't be apparent until they reach middle adulthood, but if Hayne is correct, we're going to be seeing a generation less capable of running the world than any previous generation. Us Boomers will be gone by then, but I feel sorry for my daughter's generation when they reach old age and have to rely on today's youth to run things. That is, unless steps are taken now to reverse the current trend.

We need to revisit laws around driving age, drinking and especially military induction. It's becoming apparent that 18 year olds simply do not have the brain development to make an informed decision about going off to war. Well, actually, nobody does, but that's another matter. Perhaps they should be allowed to enlist at 18, if they so desire, but is it really ethical to send them off to fight when their brains are not fully developed? The fiasco that occurred at Abu Ghraib (Baghdad Central Prison) and other incidents in Iraq involving young soldiers seems to indicate that it isn't.

The young are the future. We know this. I know that my generation ingested prodigious quantities of substances that probably didn't do us any favors, but we didn't consume nearly the amount of alchohol that today's youth do, and that seems to be the major problem we will face. Liquor companies increasingly target youth with alco-pops and other insidious concoctions. It started in the 80's with wine coolers. Perhaps it's time they were held responsible for their actions, before we all pay a terrible price.

My two cents, I welcome yours.