Recently, I turned 21. And by “recently,” I mean a few days ago. However, I started drinking with my parents and extended family two Septembers ago at my cousin Susan’s wedding. The same cousin Susan that dated Zach Braff in high school, but that’s a story for another time.

I was a sophomore in college at this point, so I knew my way around a liquor cabinet, but I had never tried my hand at familial drinking. Encouraged by another cousin who insisted that “everyone is twenty-one at a wedding,” I descended into a state of drunkenness rivaled only by Susan’s sorority-sister-type bridesmaids.

Although the next morning was extremely painful (due to the fact that it was a wedding in Martha’s Vineyard, and a full oyster bar plus a six hour car ride the next morning does not end well), I considered it a success. My dad had even taken to ordering me “that Mexican beer that Sarah likes” from the bartenders. But the question arose — was this a one time thing or did this mean that I was always allowed to drink at family events?

When my cousin Tim graduated from college last June, I tried my luck again and asked to have some beer at the party. The statute of limitations from Susan’s wedding had passed, so I figured that everyone had forgotten about the fact that I puked all morning and missed the Sunday brunch. After several hours of drinking with family members again, it was all they could do to remind me. This time, I didn’t just drink with my family. I played flip cup with my family, smoked cigarettes with my cousins, and stayed up until 7 a.m. drinking wine and playing guitar on the back porch. Still, this could be just a fluke.

The ultimate test: a family party at my own home. Not only did I get drunk, but I invited all of my friends to get drunk. Dozens of kids passing out on the couches, all the while relatives regaled us with tales of their own youthful misadventures. My mom even bought me a bottle of terrible wine that I had requested (I couldn’t bring myself to share the fact that I love Franzia boxed wine).

Now that I’m 21, these stories don’t matter much anymore because I can drink without my parents’ permission. But the point is, you’ll never know until you try. I’ve been to some great parties, but a lot of my favorite drunk semi-memories have been from family parties. There’s no risk of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a family party (unless it’s a REALLY good family party). There’s little risk of the police coming to break up your party (unless you’re a Hayden, because that has happened to us). There are people who love you and are looking out for you every step of the way. And usually, there’s home-cooked food instead of Burger King for when you get hungry.

So give it a try. Open up a beer with dinner. Ask your parents to go double-or-nothing over a game of flip cup. Start a full-out beer pong tournament. Get Grandma involved. You might find that your parents are better at drinking than you are. My parents are pretty good at it, although they’ve had years and years of practice. Hell, you can even start a facebook group about how awesome your parents are, if you’re (un)lucky enough to have cousins and parents on facebook. There’s no harm in asking, and if your family is like mine — gigantic, loud and Irish — you’ll probably find that you like drinking with your family more than drinking with your friends.

Unless you are, in fact, an orphan. Because then you’re just drinking alone.