My dad is cool, because he doesn't judge and didn't restrict me needlessly.
When I way 15, he said to me one day, out of the blue, that if I ever wanted to get drunk before I was 18 he would go get a bottle of vodka from a liquor store and we'd drink it together. One the one condition that I promised not to go out and drink myself sensless on some back alley. He said he wished I'd wait, but that if I ever felt I didn't want to wait then he'd rather get the booze himself if it meant not worrying where I am and if I'm alright.
That day I promised him that. And waited for two years before drinking myself drunk, out of sheer respect for him.
When it was time for a summer party (I was 16) in a city nearby and I said I wanted to go, my parents thought about it for a while and in the end just said to give them a call if I needed a lift back, no matter what time it was. On the condition that I'd stay out of any intentional stupidity and called them anyways (to tell them I'm alright) if I didn't plan on coming home before sunrise.
I promised. And I did. Stayed the whole night. And nothing was said about it, later.
When I was 17 and finally got drunk (and boy was I drunk) at a home party my friend had nearby, I crawled my way back home, threw up in the bathroom and passed out. My parents had given me pretty much a carte blanché that night, assuming I came home that night (no time limit), no police would later come asking for me and I promised to stay away form any possible drugs.
Come morning, my mother wasn't exactly happy. Neither was father, but they didn't say anything about it. Dad took a look at my condition once I was up, went to talk with my mother for a while and then made a large, warm breakfast for me. Told me he was happy I'm alright if we discount the hangover, to eat my meal, take the day to get better and that we'd have a talk the following day when I wasn't feeling like horse dung.
The day after, father simply asked if I'd kept my promise about no drugs and no stupidity leading to involving cops. I said I did. He was happy with that. Mother asked if I had had fun time and learned anything from the experience. And if it had been worth it, now that I had recover. I did and I had and I was of two minds about the latter. As in, throwing up while drunk is not fun and I wasn't keen on doing that part again. She just gave a hug, said it was tough to ignore that 'wrap my son in styrofoam plastic bubble for protection' feeling and I was growing up way too fast. They both asked to be informed if I ever planned to get drunk again before I was 18. We agreed on that and the incident hasn't been spoken about since unless I first bring it up in a conversation.
Sometimes they are both too cool for words, but dad moreso than mother. I'm now 25 and hope to be half as good a parent when I do get kids of my own.