Guzzling Beer Equals More Pain Than Gain
People Being Duped With Beer Guzzling.
What Or Who Fits The Description
of a boozer? Okay. Americans in 2019, are some of the most-intelligent, street-smart and savvy about many things in life. Drinking alcohol included. Before I begin, just let me start out on a clear avenue: not everyone who drinks alcohol is an alcoholic in the making. I happen to know that I had two uncles who were the epitome of hard-working, faithful to their wives and children, and always around when others needed help. And yes, on occasion, both sat down and sipped a beer or two and went to bed. In the late 1950's, this was considered a wild night.
On the other hand, I am not qualified to talk about the case of a person who abuses alcohol every day and night of the week. A big portion of this group, sadly, may become dependent on booze and when their craving leads to selling their property--car, clothes, jewelry, to get more alcohol, would you consider these good folks an alcoholic? But take heart. America has a lot of self-help for alcoholics with "A.A." (alcoholics anonymous) being the most-prevalent. To be fair, not every person who is prone to boozing every waking hour does NOT end up in a dark alley stoned and crying for another bottle of gin.
Frankly, and without apology, alcohol can, and will be both your best buddy as well as being the one who will betray you slowly as you gulp-down that 12-ounce can of "liquid confidence," that works only for a few hours--then the reality quickly sets in and you, the amateur boozer, is now going to"pay the fiddler," as it were.
No One Starts Out To Be
an alcoholic. This person don't just get up one morning, look in the mirror and confess, "you know what I am going to do?" "no,what?" you answer. "I am heading to the nearest ATM, draw-out a few hundred bucks and head to my favorite bar to get completely, without caring, bombed, and I mean bombed so bad that I will not know my name!" Well, the novice-boozer, you have to admit, is brimming with confidence and self-assurance, and he will take several hundred bucks from the ATM and wind-up at "Sharkey's Bar and Grill: Dancing Girls 24-Hours a Day!" And with a name like that, the amateur boozer believes that he is right where he belongs.
At first, he is fine, in complete control of his faculties. Nothing has gone awry with him. What led him to this bar was attending his family reunion last week and had the bad fate of meeting his arrogant cousin, "Petey," who scored all A's from grade school all the way through high school and college. Just check the numerous awards that is collecting dust on the wall of his plush, two-story spacious home in THE most elaborate neighborhood town.
When amateur boozer and "Petey" were young, they had fun. They talked and made big plans like any young man will do, but it was NOT amateur boozer who saw his dreams through. Sure, he did work as hard as he could. But it was "Petey," somehow got all of the great breaks on his way to becoming his company's youngest CEO in this company's 80-year history. The employees love him. He is not married, but his bevy of beautiful girlfriends all pray that she be the one (e.g. almost a lyric from Carley Simon's "You're So Vain").
Amateur boozer did not have a clue if "Petey" was going to attend the family reunion, so he went with his guard down and thought that just once, he, the amateur boozer, just might be the center of attention. After all, he has just been made the assistant manager to "Oliver's Outdoor Sporting Goods Store," and with that five-hundred-dollar raise, amateur boozer is on top of the world. He has an office on the ground floor. He shares a secretary, "Alice," who is six-years his senior and is very stern. Her boss, "Maxie Lard," loves her and gives her under-the-table perks such as fifty-bucks at a pop and his key to his office to have those, uhh, well, you know, those "secret rendezvous."
At any rate, amateur boozer, is okay with his position and he is full of hope that one day he will take "Lard's" position and get to use the Executive Wash Room and enjoy all of "Oliver's Sporting Goods'" lavish financial gifts--eleven-day vacations to Palm Springs, a new rental car for him to use for two weeks a month and a two-hundred expense account that he uses to take customers out to dine and impress them into buying a lot of sporting goods to be used in the client's country club or hunting club. "Lard" started in this position, so amateur boozer thinks that it will work for him as well.
Then Upon The Accidental-Meeting
with "Petey" last week at the family reunion, amateur boozer did try to hold his own as he tried to talk to "Petey," but was laughed to the floor by this arrogant cousin and amateur boozer began to fade away from the crowd and slink into the parking lot so he could jump into his car and head home. Amateur boozer took only 45-minutes of listening to "Petey," the braggadocious, almighty statue of a man, telling him how many thousand dollars he had in his pocket and how he just bought his third Mercedes, silver this time. He got bored with his other Mercedes one in red and the other, black. "Petey," when he had finished his hour-long role as wind bag, managed to ask an elderly aunt, "Mrs. Heleen Durkworst," where amateur boozer was, but he really was only asking to show others that they could be fooled into "Petey's" false concern.
Now amateur boozer . . .time to give him a name, "Dawkins," a moderately-nice-looking guy, weighing in at about 133, and in decent shape. He doesn't smoke, but of two weeks ago, his three buddies, who are world-renown boozers, took "Dawkins" out on the town and he was tight, not drunk with his buddies. They complimented him on his ability to hold his beer like a pro. "Dawkins" stepped out of the taxi feeling like a man. So here sits “Dawkins,” still alive and kicking. He looks very brave. No good buddies here to rent bar stools with him, so he thinks that he will go it alone, but not drink so much beer that he will do and say things that will bring him several fathoms of shame once the sun hits on his countenance on this new day. He has drank some, even felt tight, but not drunk, so this is a new place for “Dawkins” because it not just an obscure bar. It is a proving ground for him so prove not just to himself, but this is his place. He came here to drink beer, just beer, because even in his amateur status of a boozer, he knows that he can take booze one degree of potency at the time—first the beer, then in time, whiskey and maybe vodka, but he does not have a desire for stronger drinks. Just beer. “Dawkins,” may be green to a lot of pro-boozers, but he has a working knowledge of alcohol and its strengths. Many amateur boozers, as “Dawkins” was a few months ago, they charge at booze like a wild dog in the bush of Africa. They get plastered and then pass-out for semi-sober people to laugh at them, throw popcorn into their hair and other assorted bar room pranks.
Ladies And Gentlemen, It Is Now Time
for “Dawkins” to introduce himself to lots of beer, several mugs at the time, and maybe a regular “bar fly,” with a good heart, will sit down and share a beer or two with him, talk about old times, sports, politics, and maybe what is happening in the Middle East. So the items below are just a few of the “Things You Never Knew About Booze”:
As you may or may not have picked-up from reading what has happened to “Dawkins,” so far, you, being the wise men and women of the world, can discern that this young man is anxious and ready for abusing alcohol. Oh, “Dawkins,” thanks to his male ego, would never admit that he wants to be drunk, but he will own up to wanting to drink lots of beer. He has not been experienced enough to know that you cannot have one without the other.
So far, “Dawkins” when he went with his good buddies who drink beer, never thought about eating before he drank, thus after six or seven beers, he felt, as old boozers call it “tight.” This feeling is very deceptive. Actually this feeling is the fuel that drives the Booze Train one rides who after getting “tight,” will want to be this way again---on weekends, holidays, and Saturday nights.
You have already had a short visit with “Petey,” (“Peter W. Delkork” “Dawkins’” arrogant cousin) and when “Dawkins” had heard this lofty-thinking cousin, it got to him. “Dawkins,” who was not known for being self-confident, let the bragging bring his image down to a drainage ditch and causing booze to enter his mind—first a mild, unpretentious drink, who is just waiting to be drank so it can put its affect upon “Dawkin’s” mind, emotional system, and physical self.
If, and that is a big word, “if,” “Dawkins’” good buddies who can drink proficiently, has never coaxed him to head to a bar and show him just how easy it is to get “tight.” But the truth is, the good buddies, did NOT pressure or push anything on “Dawkins”---they were even so understanding that they “Dawkins” sip on one cold beer without ever saying ready for another one? That is true friendship and a perfect way to get hooked on booze.
Did you catch the reason why “Dawkins” wanted to visit this establishment, "Sharkey's Bar and Grill: Dancing Girls 24-Hours a Day!”? Well, “Dawkins” wanted to feel at ease while he settled his inward fears attached to his new “habit” of boozing, so he chose this bar which on the inside is clean, very lavish, and the customers are for the most part, good American people. “Dawkins” thought that this place was a great start to start boozing because he knew that his boss, “Lard,” would eventually ask him to hit a bar so he could help entertain some high-rolling clients, and he wanted to be ready.
“Dawkins,” who you already know, is so amateur to the Boozing Crowd, that he does not know (right now) that his new love of drinking is costing him his hard-earned money which in a few months, will, and I hate to say it, take its toll on his wallet and bank account. Let this be a lesson for you, the amateur boozers, never believe that any alcoholic, even if someone gives it to you, SOMEONE has to pay for it. This time, “Dawkins” will have to pay since he is here alone. Just him, his desire for beer and his wallet.
Did you see in the early part of this piece where “Dawkins” got to go to a bar with his good-timing boozing friends, but he did not get wasted—a little tight, but far from drunk. My question: did you ever see “Dawkins” drive his car or any car? No. The story stated that he, “Dawkins,” got out of the cab, so at least he was not a worn-out boozer, but well on his way.
As for “Dawkins’” good-time boozer friends, they took him to a bar, but never offered to drive him in one of their cars to head home. Fast-thinking on “Dakins’” behalf because I know of people who with three or four beers, their thought process becomes convoluted and confusing which leads to trouble.
Now For What Time We Have To Share
with “Dawkins,” who was just sitting at the bar when the bartender, a nice-looking girl, “Vicki,” smiled and asked if he wanted something to drink. “Dawkins,” very proud to have a girl, any girl, smile at him, but to keep himself looking like a pro-boozer, he told her that he would like a cold beer,”she smiled again,walked away and in a moment, brought him a cold beer in a frosted glass. Now “Dawkins” felt so proud of himself to conduct a smile exchange of a product and now to leave her five-dollars on the bar.
But a serious, sly problem has already been activated, so here it goes.
“Vicki,” noticed that “Dawkins,” had paid for his beer and was just sitting there sipping his beer and she walked back and said, “first one’s free here,” which made him so thankful that he said, “thanks, and you can bring me another one. Please,” and “Vicki” walked away.
“Dawkins” sipped the second cold beer (also in a frosted mug) and he felt something happening inside his body. He sensed that he was beginning to feel good, which to drinkers, is the first stage of being wasted beyond comprehension.”
“Dawkins” sipped his second beer, then noticed that his mug was half-full and so he recalled his boozing buddies who loved to chug-a-lug their beer, so why not, he thought and chugged the rest of his beer. “Vicki” was on the ball and there when he finished-off his second beer and asked him if he would like another one? “Dawkins,” felt empowered as he said, yes, I do. Winked at “Vicky,” winked at her, she winked back, and he was feeling alright which is not far from feeling good, but near it. Like a flash, “Vicki” was on time as she brought him his third beer . . . also in a frosted mug. “Dawkins” now felt like dancing, but did not know how. But with a big sip of beer, he walked over to the nice-looking jukebox and while shopping for a favorite song, he hit on it: “Chug-A-Lug,” a Country Music hit by the now-late Roger Miller. “Dawkins” dug into his right pants pocket and put two-and-a-half bucks into the jukebox and chose the number of his song.
Now “Dawkins” was close to feeling good. He also noticed that what few bar patrons began to get up and dance as his song blared out the speaker. “Vicki,” got into the act and began to dance and this made him bold and confident.
“You nice pretty good, miss,” “Dawkins” said loudly to “Vicky.” “you care if I buy you a beer?”
“I would love to, but I am not permitted to drink on duty,” she softly said then whispered to him, “but I would love for you to let me buy you one,” she said.
“Dawkins” was now on his fourth beer. He was fishing-out his change from both pants pockets and feeding the jukebox—he played “Chug-A-Lug,” three more times; “Whiskey River,” by Willie Nelson; “Good-Timing Woman,” by Waylon Jennings and as he listened to these songs, he stumbled over to the other bar customers asking every woman that he seen if she would get up and dance with him.
“Dawkins” did not have any luck whatsoever. The women that he asked either smiled a plastic smile while one woman’s husband stood up and took a swing at him, but barely missed his head. “Vicki” ran from behind the bar and broke-up the scuffle and talked “Dawkins” into sitting on his stool and to have another cold one. (Have you kept count? He is now on his fifth-beer, almost a six-pack).
Funny thing. You would think that when you visit a bar and sit down to have a drink, many times a man or woman who wants some company will appear friendly and before you know it, between the drinks that are hitting you, your new friend is chatting up a storm with you about things from food shortages to the ages of apes in captivity.
“Dawkins” was wide-open now as he guzzled his fifth beer, and since the first beer was free thanks to “Vicki,” he did owe her $20.00, now $25.00 tip included. But “Dawkins” wasn’t ready to go home. Neither was “Vicki,” as she slowly walked over to “Dawkins,” with his sixth-beer, also with a frosted mug, and he grabbed it like a hungry tiger in the Rain Forest. “That’s five more bucks, friend,” “Vicki” said. But she never told anyone that she used to be a Math teacher in high school a few years ago.
With a six-pack into his gut, “Dawkins” was not feeling good, but sick. Really sick to his stomach and his head was spinning so fast that the bar looked blurry as the other bar patrons began to laugh at him and then “Vicki,” who did have a heart, walked up to him, but NOT with a cold one in any frosted mug and said, “you’ve had enough, sport. Time to go home, or do you need a cab?”
“I do, uhhhh, (stammer, stammer slur) have a car, but uhhh, it is outside . . .so you can call me a cab, please, miss?” “Dawkins” said bobbing his head up and down like a toy with a moving head.
Then, as if things couldn’t get worse for “Dawkins,” he felt down to all fours as “Vicki” patiently helped him to stand-up while he bent over and (I won’t share what he did), got into the cab. “Vicki,” still compassionate leaned into the backseat, kissed “Dawkins” on the cheek, smiled, and walked away.
Yes, “Dawkins” in another way, had graduated from a mild drinker to a real boozer—singing, dancing, trying to get women (he didn’t know) to dance with him, avoiding a quick right cross from some lady’s husband, maybe boyfriend, and “Vicki,” she walked away with $30.00 total.
You didn’t know just how shrewd she was, but when she leaned into the backseat to kiss “Dawkins,” she whispered “that is another five dollars,” and walked away.
Writer’s note: sure this entire piece is untrue. A work of fiction. But the many sentiments and ideas about alcohol, driving drunk, getting drunk in a bar only with bar, being hassled by a cute bartender, then almost passing out . . .are Boozing And Beer Equals More Pain Than Gain.
June 28, 2019__________________________________________________
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© 2019 Kenneth Avery