Das Boot

The bartender handed me a glass of water. "I'm not a fucking house plant..." I was probably on the better side of toasted by the time the bartender handed me that glass of water. It may seem offensive to most but really it's a benchmark of your night. A lot can hinge on that water. What you choose to do with it is up to you.

Recently, I was planning on meeting up with a friend after work.  I was really looking forward to it, the bar just tapped a couple of beers I haven't had before and I was ready for a couple of cold ones. My friend said that he was bounced from his imperial throne rather unceremoniously. 86'ed. In the restaurant business means that the item is no longer available or cut off. After a change of venue, we delved deeper and I got a debriefing. He stated he was having a few beers before we met up. This bar is known to serve a more potent drink, with pale ales and India pale ales taking center stage. The ABV levels typically run around 6% or higher. They can add up after a while. After a couple of these, the bartender called a day early. He said he was maintaining at a decent pace, but she laid it out plain and simple, it's your last one. If you have never been to asked to leave one of your favorite haunts, you're just not drinking right.

Let's think about the weather for a moment. If I tell you that it's going to be 45 degrees outside today, what are you going to wear? Fleece jacket? For a long-suffering Buffalonian, you're breaking out the shorts because you're probably coming off one of the coldest winters on record. People act differently even having the same amount of drinks. Five IPAs for you might make you belligerent where it might make me more debonair - or so I think. Regardless, some of the more grizzled veterans out there can hold their booze without making a scene. There have been times where I thought I was charming after a few pops but the reality was something completely the opposite.

I know that I have been asked to leave a few establishments before I thought I was ready to leave. Although after trying to recollect, I can't specifically name them off the top of my head. I'm guessing this is because I was too drunk for my own good and luckily for you and me, I made it home safe and without incident every time. Actually, I do remember one "recently." I was in downtown Portland doing something and I took the train home and I had to make the two-mile walk back home. I wasn't quite ready to call it a night so I stopped at a bar that was on my way home. They served a beer that they served back in Buffalo, Labatt Blue. Blue was my go to beer because no matter how drunk you were, you could still say "Blue" without sounding like you were drunk. Not that night. I ordered a Blue but really slurred it. The bartender said with no mistake, "you're slurring your words and I can't serve you."

For a boozer like me, you are taken aback. "Are you really asking me to leave?! I pay your bills goddamn it!!! This is America and I demand satisfaction." For the bar patron, you think that you have built a rapport with your drinking Sherpa taking you to the peak of the of those blue mountains on that beer can. You banter back and forth about the banality of daily life but sometimes you can have an honest moment and talk about something real to both of you. On an average day, that's the extent of it. You both go on your merry ways but when you're 86'ed, that's a different story.

It seems like a certain bond is broken. As a kid, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. I loved them dearly and cherished all of the time I spent with them. I would pretend that I was asleep so when my mom came to pick me up, she would just let me stay the night. At some point, that had to end and either my mom came to pick me up or my grandparents had to drop me off. It was always the worst when they had to drop me off, insofar that I would actually choke up and feel abandoned. I know they didn't want to do it, but it was just something that had to be done.

It's truly hard to explain to someone that hasn't been bum rushed out the front door of an establishment. My friend brought up a good point, where he said I had "it." I have a good poker face and can go for a long time before I'm told to close out. Looking back, I'm really glad I was cut off because obviously, I was in no condition to do so. Maybe that's what caring is, looking at someone who is willing to pay for a service but saying enough is enough. Of course, I'm aware of the legal implications of over-serving intoxicated patrons, but there has to be more than that. Like I said about my friend's case, the bartender asked me the status of my friend when she didn't have to so I'm inclined to believe there were more precipitating events that lead up to his expulsion, but I digress.

Here's my parting shot. There's a scene in Trainspotting where the group goes out to a club for drinking. After the night comes to a conclusion the group couples off. Spud goes home with his girlfriend but passes out before they could have sex. She left him in the bed where he proceeds to shit himself. Ashamed, he tries to take the sheets to the washing machine where he can exonerate himself and wash the sheets. The family is having breakfast in the kitchen and Spud has to explain his situation, wherein the father of Spud's girlfriend says, "it's good to get caught out every once in a while." Simply put, it's OK to fuck up once in a while. As long as no one is drunk driving and killing people, a little shame will do you good. It helps you readjust to a socially acceptable level. "Oh shit, what did I do? Well, I can't let that happen again." It's just part of your social network looking out for you. I'm sure there are hucksters out there looking to steal your money, but when your bartender calls time, it's for your own good. Drink your water and begin your descent from your cruising altitude. You'll need it to flush all of that poison you drank.

If only strip clubs could abide by the same rules...