Cola Cocktails

You wouldn't think it judging by the fact that I write a liquor blog and I can get pretty particular about booze and the culture surrounding it, but I'm in favor of avoiding pretentiousness in luxuries like alcohol. In fact, the more my experience with the hard stuff expands, the more I'm convinced that foodie-style snobbery is making liquor culture insufferable. That's why I'm devoting an entire column to cocktails that prominently feature a thoroughly unpretentious and often downright populist beverage: Cola. The one allowance I'll make for nit-picky palates in relation to cola is the clear superiority of cane sugar over corn syrup soda. The stuff just tastes better and that's the only reason I'm okay with the rarer, somewhat pricier substitution. It has nothing to do with the stuff being made outside of America or the fact that even knowing about it is something of an insider track in the food world. If you're making a cocktail, you're already indulging. Spend the extra fifty cents for the glass bottle of Mexi-Coke or whatever cane sugar cola you prefer. Now, onto the cocktails.

The beautiful thing about cola is that it defers to other flavors despite having a pretty strong flavor itself. In fact, it enhances flavors that are often too strong or simple on their own by diffusing them in a sweet but simple solution. Cola is as thin as you want it to be and it plays well with ice, in that it holds its taste fairly well when watered down. Everyone's first cola drink is, naturally, the Rum and Cola, a drink about which I've had a thing or two to say in the past. Though I have a healthy fear of that deceptively potent cocktail, I still defer to its beautiful simplicity. It's a sweet, spiced thing mixed with another sweet, spiced thing. And yes, I do believe that a proper rum and cola is made with spiced rum. When there are only two ingredients in a drink, more flavor is a good thing.

My personal favorite cola drink is the Fernet Branca and Cola. The Fernet family of liquors is heavy on the herbal flavors, coming from that pre-Prohibition tradition of throwing a bunch of mysterious ingredients into a grape distillate and selling the resulting tincture as everything from a medicine to an after-dinner digestive aid. The truth is, Fernet Branca is some mean stuff on its own, like a version of Jaegermeister that caters more to Old World hellfire clubs than 21st century frat boys. Mix it with a good cola, though, and the resulting drink is a cool, somewhat minty interplay of bitter and sweet that brings out the best in both ingredients while minimizing their flaws.

I'm not above treating cola like what it is, though: A confection. Honestly, it's bubbly water mixed with syrup and nuts. It may come from 19th century apothecaries but it seems tailor made for boardwalks in summer. To that end, I'm gonna come out in favor of the Laverne and Shirley. No, not the questionable mix of Pepsi and milk consumed by characters on the TV show it references, but a far more respectable sweet thing made by hitting a measure of cola with a half ounce each of cherry and chocolate vodka. Sure, it's cloying, but that's the point. It tastes like a flavored Coke that gets you drunk. Depending on context, that's either a merit or a flaw.

 

Thankfully, cola is cheap, so I encourage experimentation with the stuff. Though somewhat tainted by its corporate producers and cultural ubiquity, cola is still a remarkable tincture with a lot to offer. Taken as an occasional indulgence rather than one's drink at every meal, it's a delight.

The Seattle Nightlife Initiative

Say what you will about Seattle mayor Mike McGinn, the guy isn't shy about actually doing stuff, which puts him a cut above most politicians. McGinn's got my tentative vote thanks to his most recent project, the Seattle Nightlife Initiative. Basically, it's an attempt to fix some of the city's many ridiculous, outdated and strangely conservative liquor laws without sending the vote to the ballot, where progressive ideals in Washington state go to die. The centerpiece of the initiative is the extension of liquor service hours past 2:00 AM, which is something that makes my lushy heart flutter and will also cut down on a variety of problems that result from last call when bars puke out scads of drunks into the streets every night. Here's a breakdown of what the initiative is actually going to do.

"Flexible" Liquor Sales Hours

Because any changes to the law surrounding alcohol in Washington have to be candy-coated within an inch of their legislative lives, the Nightlife Initiative has adopted the term "flexible hours" for the plan to let establishments serve alcohol after 2:00 AM. The aim of this change is twofold. First, no city outside some kind of fascist dystopia has the transit or law enforcement resources to handle the rush of bar patrons spilling into the streets at once come last call. It's a practice that results in higher incidents of drunk driving, altercations, public urination and all those other unfortunate things that happen when people who have been hurried to finish their drinks re-enter the non-drinking world en mass. By allowing bars to serve more or less all day and all night, the initiative will allow the flow of intoxicated people to be slow and steady, relieving the stress on city infrastructure. Second, there's a whole lot of business and tax revenue locked in those late hours. Bars will make more money by being able to serve people longer and later, and the city will make more money from tax on those late night sales. Everybody but the poor drunk with no regard for his credit card wins.

 

Extension and Education of Transit Options

Drunk people should not drive, but that's what happens when drunk people don't want to pay through the nose for a cab and they've missed (or don't known about) the last bus home. The early part of the initiative has involved raising awareness of the late night bus lines that run after 2:00 AM, but the more important piece of the plan is a no-brainer involving street parking. One of the reasons people either don't drive to the bars or feel compelled to drive home after a night of drinking is because they don't want their cars to get towed for being parked in a metered spot after 8:00 AM the next day. The initiative is implementing a system to give people a chance to pre-pay for next-day meter time starting at 10:00 PM instead of 4:00 AM so people can plan ahead while still sober, because that sort of thing is possible with digital meter systems.

 

Institutional Overhaul

The other side of the initiative involves how the City and liquor-vending businesses interact, in that the system is currently screwed up and needs to be fixed. This means creating outreach programs to give businesses a direct line to everything from security training to Liquor Board consultation so the relationship between local government and local businesses isn't so antagonistic. There's a lot of language in the initiative that seems to be there for the benefit of people who disapprove of any nightlife whatsoever, but aside from some promises that "rave parties" will be curtailed, it's basically just a complicated way of saying "we're trying to keep things civil because it's not 1922 and modern bars aren't speakeasies so we should probably act like alcohol is legal for a change."

 

The Seattle Nightlife Initiative is coming together piecemeal but there haven't been any major speedbumps along the way just yet. The final word on the extended liquor sales hours will come down some time in the next month and insider reports seem optimistic. For more information about the initiative, visit the official government website.

3 Uncommon Bar Tools You Should Have

Building an at-home bar is rather different from building a commercial bar. You only really need to stock bottles you and your guests like rather than a wide enough selection for every taste in a target demographic. You don't need a shelf full of glasses and while it's nice to have bar sinks, they're really not necessary. There are a few tools of the bar that tend to get excluded from home setups, though, that can really make the difference between so-so homemade cocktails and top-notch craft drinks. Here are three pieces you should consider for a truly exceptional personal bar.

The Lewis Bag and Mallet

Ever wonder how classic bars produce that glorious, snowy crushed ice for stellar drinks like the Mint Julep? Here's a hint: It ain't a snowcone machine. Craft bars employ a simple but specific tool called a Lewis Bag for the job. Lewis Bags are canvas sacks designed for ice-crushing purposes, but not just any canvas will do. A proper Lewis Bag is made from heavy industrial canvas rather than the thinner, weaker stuff used in shopping bags and the like. This is because you'll be clobbering the Lewis Bag with a mallet or baton to make your fine ice. Ice is probably the most overlooked ingredient in cocktail crafting and the consistency of the ice in a drink can make a huge difference in the final product. The Lewis Bag and mallet allow you to make drinks that bridge the gap between hard rocks and blended textures, keeping the liquid frosty cold without watering it down.

 

Dedicated Herb and Spice Grinder

With the resurgence of classic and classic-style cocktails, fresh herbs and spices have re-entered the mixology vocabulary. The day you learn to use fresh ingredients in your drinks is akin to the day you start grinding your own beef for hamburgers. The improvement in taste and texture is so astounding that going back to processed stuff becomes unthinkable. Herbs and spices are most flavorful and aromatic when they're ground from fresh, whole sources and those wonderful oils will only be further enhanced with a little alcohol.

 

Juicing Press

By the same token, fresh-squeezed juice beats bottled juice every time, hands down. While it may be inconvenient to squeeze your morning glass of orange juice every single day, there's really no excuse for skimping on the carefully crafted luxury of a cocktail. You only ever need an ounce or two of juice, if that, for any given cocktail, so there's no need to worry about the number of fruits you need to fill a glass. When it comes to juicers, I prefer the mechanical hand press. It's more efficient and generates more juice than those awful cone presses everybody hates and they don't alter the flavor like automatic presses tend to. And anyway, you won't need an automatic press for small amounts of juice. With your fresh-squeezed mixers, you'll be able to enjoy cocktails without the cloying, chemical notes of bottled products and actually get some nutrition with your drink.

The Lie of Craft Liquor

I just got back from a craft distillery that makes vodka, gin and whiskey... except they don't actually make vodka. In fact, I've yet to sample a vodka from a craft distillery that is actually vodka. This is because American liquor crafters imagine themselves to be clever when actually they're just afraid of difficult marketing. Let me elaborate:

A craft distiller is a dressed-up way of saying a liquor company that makes a product in batches small enough to not have to standardize it. Companies like Absolut and Jack Daniels have a market that allows them to sell millions of bottles of their product, but only if every batch and bottle is the same. They have to make their product in batches so large that automation is 100% necessary at every step, so the subjective little twists that go into subtlety and character are impossible to achieve. A craft distiller makes (maybe) thousands of bottles a year in a production space that occupies one room and can be operated by a skeleton crew. They have small enough outfits to futz around with the details. And so they do. To a maddening extent.

The results have typically been the following, in ascending order of annoyance:

1. Sub-par whiskey that is sub-par specifically because it leaves out one or more of the essential components of the whiskey-drinking experience and mistakes that for artistry.

2. Gin that makes it its business to hit drinkers in the face with one, extremely insistent flavor like juniper, pine or cardamom because the crafter is more interested in their product having "personality" than achieving balance.

3. Vodka that has more incidental flavor than a mouth-open ride through the R&D department at Ben and Jerry's.

 

I can excuse craft distillers for being sophomoric in the case of the first two problems. Craft distilling in America is new enough that we can expect folks to think they can reinvent the wheel. The third is inexcusable, though, and I'm downright sick of it.

Let's get something straight: Vodka is, by definition, neutral grain spirit. It is ethanol and water with nothing else in it. The world of drinkers and distillers decided this a long time ago because it's nice to know what you're getting before you order it. People like having a consistent experience when they order a glass of vodka for the same reason they like a consistent experience when they order a hamburger. A hamburger, as human civilization has decreed, is ground beef served on a plain bun. If anything about this formula is augmented, the server is obligated to inform the eater of the changes. Order a barbecue bacon cheeseburger and you know what kind of weird, screwed-with burger you're getting because it's right there in the name. For a little while, this was true of vodka, too. When a bottle of vodka was going to taste like lemon or chocolate or espresso, this fact was indicated right there on the bottle. No surprises.

That's not the case with these candy-ass craft distillers. These jokers have decided to bottle a product that, in addition to ethanol and water, has a bunch of additional flavor compounds in it but they still call it plain vodka. This breaks the code our species keeps concerning the mutual comprehensibility of language. We, across many cultures, understand that vodka is neutral grain spirit, not just the liquid product of fermented stuff. All alcohol is the liquid product of fermented stuff. Changing the distillation process and more or less forgoing the filtration process does not result in clever vodka with "character", it results in overpriced moonshine.

I get where this habit comes from. Making something new and actually giving it a new name means having to overcome the marketing hurdle of getting people to try something they've never heard of and establishing recognition from scratch. So, craft distillers have hid behind the term "vodka" even though they're bottling and selling something that, by experience, doesn't actually taste like vodka and by definition really isn't. To cover their asses, they've promoted this idea that their craft vodkas are complex and special, made for discerning palates and liquor foodies. The result is an ever-expanding wall of vodkas that don't taste like vodka and a vast field of disparate products all going by the same name.

I stand behind the principle of craft distilling. I like localism and flavor complexity, but I want to see a distiller who has the courage to do one of two things-- Either make an ester-filled, complex spirit and give it a unique name or make a real, neutral vodka that's cheaper than mass market vodka. This business of bottling something with a wild flavor profile and calling it neutral grain spirit just because nobody added any infusions after the fact is straight-up nonsense.

The Lush Chronicles: Your Regulars

Becoming "one of the regulars" is an organic process. Sure, you could intentionally go to the same bar once a week or more, but it means nothing unless you really want to. When it comes to a lush's true regular watering holes, there's always something that keeps them coming back. More than that, they keep coming back against all reason. Me? I live in a city that's positively bristling with bars of every stripe. A lush could sit on a different stool every night and never run out. And yet I find myself going back to the same places time and again, finding comfort in some little thing that makes me blind to all the other bars around me. Maybe it's the bartenders who have engaging attitudes, maybe it's that I know they've got an uncommon bottle on the shelf I like. Maybe it's just because I have good memories there. Whatever the reason, I find myself back in those same bars time and again. That said, my thirst for variety is often as strong as my thirst for liquor. The balance, then, is having a small deck of regular spots, each one filling a certain role when one or the other doesn't suit my mood.

The Cocktail Lounge

For those who don't frequent this blog or have just forgotten, I make the distinction between drunk and lush based mostly around the concept of attention. This means attention to one's own habits, attention to the habits of others and attention to the nuances of different kinds of drink. The cocktail lounge is the best place to practice all these things. It's harder to get downright soused when the drinks are pricey and have complex flavors, but it's also easier to appreciate the uniqueness of alcohol as an experience. I have my regular lounge, as I'm sure most lushes do; a place for pure enjoyment of the craft, like a museum of potent drinks.

 

The S'n'B

As much as I love cocktails, I recognize that sometimes a lush just needs a shot and a beer. The S'n'B bar isn't exactly the opposite of the cocktail lounge, but it does serve a completely different purpose. It's there for simplicity and for stress relief. It's there for alcohol as folk medicine. The S'n'B takes a man from sober to sauced at the right pace and without any pretension of class or craft. It is drinking with purpose. A good S'n'B bar is quiet, reasonably clean and relaxed. It allows a lush to sit in peace without the fussiness of lounges and party bars.

 

The Date Bar

Become a regular anywhere and you'll be slow to share the territory with new people. It's like inviting someone into your home, or at least into a dear friend's home. At the same time, no lush is happy to get romantically involved with someone who doesn't drink. It still happens from time to time, it just usually ends with one or both parties unhappy with the results. That's why the date bar exists. It's got the atmosphere and respectability necessary to make a good first impression but it's not special enough to drag the lush back on his or her own.

 

The Burner

Spend enough time drinking and you'll eventually acquire friends and friends of friends who don't hold their liquor gracefully. That doesn't disqualify them from associating with a lush. In fact, a lush is the best friend a sloppy drunk could want. Who better to take care of a person who doesn't understand alcohol than someone who understands it intrinsically? Still, this means a prepared lush needs to have a bar he or she wouldn't mind never being welcome in again. For those times when tying one on with a sloppy seems right or even necessary, the smart lush goes to a good burner, a bar that isn't awful but also isn't worth missing. Life is messy, alcohol makes it messier and sometimes it's best to be prepared to say goodbye.

The Ethics of Drinking: The Drunk Confession

A common scenario: Two friends spend an evening in their cups. At some point, usually in a deep state of intoxication, one of them confesses something very personal to the other. Assuming the confessee remembers the conversation, what are his or her ethical responsibilities concerning the confession? Is it right for the confessee to pretend nothing was said? Is it right to acknowledge and address the confession when both parties are sober? Should the confession be taken as truth or as the unreliable mutterings of a drunk? These are complicated questions with potentially serious social ramifications, so it's the responsibility of anyone who decides to engage with alcohol and those who drink it to have a plan in this regard.

First, there's something I'd like to get out of the way that'll help clear up a lot of the subjectivity surrounding drunk confessions. Contrary to popular belief, there is no clinical evidence to suggest that alcohol reliably alters human emotional experiences, responses to stress or willingness to be honest. To be more specific, there is no clinical evidence for a physiological modality of alcohol affecting those things. The closest thing decades of increasingly sophisticated research into the psychophysiology of alcohol consumption has taught us is that a drinker's perceptions of the effects of alcohol count for a lot more regarding behavioral changes while drunk than any actual psychoactive elements of the substance itself. In plain English, most people act how they think they're supposed to act while drunk, not how alcohol invariably makes people act.

The implication of this reality on how to address drunken behavior in another person is that it's straight-up bullshit for someone to blame things they say, do or feel while under the influence of alcohol on the alcohol itself. A person can blame the booze on loss of motor control, loss of memory, inhibited sexual function or nausea, but not impolite behavior or confessions of deep, dark secrets. If someone confesses something to someone else while drinking, it's because he or she wanted to and alcohol was a convenient excuse.

This means that some part of this person doesn't want the confessed information to remain a secret. This is why you can rule out staying mum about it. It's not only a needlessly perpetuated lie to do so, it's also in direct conflict with the wishes of the confessor. So, what to do now that the information is and should be out in the open?

Well, that depends on the nature of the confession. Lighter affairs (those things that are minimally damaging to the confessor or other innocent parties involved in the confession) ought to be addressed frankly in confidence between the confessor and the confessee. For heavier, potentially more damaging matters, the same should occur but with a gentler approach. There's no need to put the confessor on the defensive, but it's meaningful to simply suggest that he or she stop holding the secret inside.

Painful secrets are the kinds of things that drive people to unhealthy drinking habits, especially people who already demonstrate a willingness to self-medicate with alcohol to work up the courage to talk about their problems. That's the heart of it, really, and it's why a solid set of drinking ethics are vital. A lot of harm can result from emotions tied up in substance use. Showing a friend or loved one that it's acceptable to talk about problems without a liquid crutch will do far more good in the long run than sparing him or her the embarrassment of saying, "Last night, when we were drinking, you said..."

The Ethics of Drinking: The Drunk Hook-Up

Alcohol encourages altered behavioral patterns. That's a fancy, Psych 101 way of saying that drunk people do things they normally wouldn't do. Among the many funny, strange and terrible things people do under the influence of alcohol, one of the stone classics is the drunk hook-up. Now, I personally believe it should qualify as some sort of physical feat to successfully consummate a relationship, no matter how brief, while affected by a depressant that just loves to inhibit motor function, but there are also major emotional ramifications in the aftermath. There is a right and wrong way to deal with the morning after drunk sex and I'm here to make some important suggestions in that regard.

First, let's get the most awkward topic out of the way. Sex between two drunk adults is no more rape than sex between two 16-year-olds is child molestation. If two people end up in bed together when they're in similar states of intoxication, they're in a mutual state of impaired consent. Because neither party was mentally competent at the time, neither is more or less to blame for how things ended up, assuming that both parties got drunk on their own accord. It's not a good way to hook up and it's nothing anyone, under any circumstances, should do intentionally, but it's also not the worst thing that could happen to a potential couple.

I know it may seem weird, but if you do end up in a morning after a drunk hook-up situation, it's probably best to embrace it. At some point shortly after waking, you two lushes need to have a frank discussion. Morning salutations and pleasantries are all well and good, but it's only fair to determine if the two of you tumbled into bed together just because your judgment was impaired or because you're actually attracted to one another. The test for this one is easy: Are you still at all interested now that the sauce is off your brains? If the answer is "yes" from both parties, do the counterintuitive thing and spend the day together, if at all possible.

Yes, I advise experiencing a hangover with your new potential partner. It's not going to be a pleasant experience, at least at first, but believe me, it's a gift. Hung-over people are disgusting, irritable and almost completely devoid of pretension. It's not likely that either of you will have the energy to put on airs for one another when you're battling a multi-system emergency condition throughout your bodies. Most relationships that last for any lengthy period of time take months to be as raw and honest as two hung-over people will be. If you still like this person after being with them at their most vile, you'll have fumbled your way into the building blocks of love.

On a more pleasant note, there's also a great deal of meaningful intimacy to be had in nursing one another through your respective hangovers. You'll learn some vital likes and dislikes, establish a foundation of tenderness and enjoy bonding through both commiseration and alternating instances of selflessness.

All this said, you both have a responsibility to give each other a proper, sober date following your little hangover experiment. This whole ordeal is a way to make the best of an ugly, embarrassing situation and it definitely shouldn't serve as a precedent for your relationship. The point of all of this is to re-frame the drunken hook-up as (potentially) not a mistake, but an opportunity. If there's any affection buried beneath your layers of hung-over agony, it'd be stupid to put it to waste just because of some common humiliation. Remember, it's not important how two people meet, just how they spend the rest of their time together.

How To Drink When You're: In Seattle

I dearly love my rainy Emerald City. It's a very 21st century kind of place thanks to its mix of tech industry modernity and localism in the food department. Of course, I also love Seattle because it's one of the best drinking towns in America. It doesn't have that reputation, though it deserves it as much as any berg big or small in these United States. Seattle may not party like New Orleans or stay open as late as Las Vegas, but it has some incredible booze cred as far as my lushy little liver is concerned. Of course, visitors and newcomers may not know this, so here's the how-to for Seattle neophytes.

Beer beer beer beer beer

Seriously. Beer. The Pacific Northwest in general has some of the most impressive craft brews in the world. Hops grow in this climate remarkably well, we have thriving grain production on both sides of the Cascades and, most importantly, the region is replete with people who emotionally and financially support local, small batch endeavors with a fervor unmatched elsewhere. A lush could make a week of just visiting local breweries, each of which will have at least a half dozen craft beers ready for consumption. India Pale Ale, that light, floral brew, is popular here, but you also won't be short on porters, stouts and hefeweizen. Grab a pint of your favorite along with a slice of fresh fish and you'll begin to understand the beauty of the city.

 

Become a cocktail snob

Fancy mixed drinks are in the middle of a huge comeback right now and Seattle is at the center of the trend. These days, the speakeasy-style bar is pretty popular, but I don't see that fad sticking around for more than another couple of years. What will endure is the craft cocktail. Washington state has been booming with locally produced liquors for several years now thanks to some relaxed production and sales laws, so the localism food trend has reached the hard stuff along with meat, bread and produce. There are some ridiculously talented mixologists working in Seattle and they're thriving both creatively and financially. Get a bead on the best cocktail lounges around town and let these artists shake something up for you that isn't on any menu. You won't be disappointed.

 

Get thee to a wine bar

Washington wines are getting better every year while Oregon and California are doing a bang-up job already. Wine bars are another rising trend in Seattle and they're great places to get to know your local grapes. They all have delicious small plates, generous flights and knowledgeable staff, not to mention some great atmosphere. Wine bars make excellent dates, if drinking alone isn't your thing.

The Good Patron

It always bugs me to see someone at a proper bar who lacks for manners. It's one thing to act the ass at some horrible after-work bar that lives and dies by its jalapeno poppers, but if you're anywhere that traffics in decent-to-great cocktails, wine or even craft beer, there's definitely a code of etiquette. Follow these simple examples to make sure you're earning the adult privilege of alcohol.

The Good Patron... only takes a table when s/he's already with a party.

The Bad Patron... plants a flag in prime seating in anticipation of friends yet to arrive.

This one is all too common. Personally, I blame restaurants for this table-camping nonsense. People have become accustomed to being seated regardless of whether their party is actually on time. In a bar, this is unacceptable for a number of reasons. First, you're making things harder on other patrons who would otherwise have the seats you've claimed, which in turn jeopardizes the bar's nightly revenue. Second, you're monopolizing the barback. Bar servers are best utilized for larger parties to take the pressure off the bartender, not to be at the beck and call of the guy in the corner. This is especially true considering how particular people can be about their drinks. If your drink comes to you wrong after playing telephone across the lounge when there's a perfectly good stool two feet from the bartender, it's your own fault.

 

The Good Patron... tips generously at all times and adds to that for exemplary service.

The Bad Patron... thinks one dollar per drink is fair.

Look, the "buck a glass" thing may cut it at whatever Bud-Lite-slinging dive you frequented in the suburb where you grew up, but if you're at a proper bar that makes proper drinks, there's no reason to tip your bartender any less than you would a restaurant server. There's certainly no difference in base pay between the two but there's a big discrepancy in talent. True bartenders are skilled artisans who craft your drinks according to your specific tastes. 20% is standard, but if you get an especially clever cocktail or above-and-beyond service, it's only proper to compensate for the attention with an extra few percent.

 

The Good Patron... knows when it's time to order coffee, drink water and/or go home.

The Bad Patron... gets drunk with impunity.

Let's get something straight that few people seem to understand: Just because a bar serves alcohol doesn't mean it's okay to get drunk at one. Now, when I say "drunk" I mean really and truly soused. A decent buzz or a warm sway isn't drunk any more than dating for six months equals married. Getting sloppy in public isn't acceptable and it makes life harder for everyone else in the bar, patron and staff alike. Remember, alcohol is an indulgence and a privilege. Be responsible. If you must get drunk, do it somewhere private.

The Lush Chronicles: Playing the Friend to Drunk Strangers

Being a lush is, like writing, a fundamentally solitary activity. Perhaps that's why so many writers have had famous drinking habits. Most people feel uncomfortable going to bars alone for a variety of reasons. Women don't like to go alone when they don't feel like being hit on, and even then it's far less troubling to invite advances with a friend at one's side. Others simply don't enjoy alcohol enough on its own merits to seek it out, in public, on their own. Bars are strange places. Like hotels, they're deeply social places wrapped in a conceit of privacy everyone knows is mostly imaginary. The lush is, among other things, a person who has come to terms with the concept of drinking alone in a public place. The lush likes alcohol for what it is and not necessarily as a social lubricant or cure-all for emotional despair. And so, the lush, finding a way to remain calm and dignified while getting high in public, finds himself often surrounded by those who are at the bar for different reasons. In this scenario, the lush is a drunk's best friend, whether the lush likes it or not.

The lush knows his own limits, which puts him in a rarified category at the bar. He can get exactly as drunk as he wants to, which usually means (ironically enough) getting less drunk than most of the other people at the bar. Amateurs don't know themselves and they sure as hell don't know their drinks well enough to make a plan of the night. They can sail through the highs and lows of the unexpected, letting all the welcome weirdness of losing one's self to liquor wash over them. The lush, though? He knows exactly what each drink will do to him. He knows when he'll start to think differently and act differently, when he'll start to make a fool of himself and make mistakes. But unlike the amateurs, the lush knows that he can't really blame his bad behavior on the booze, so he actually has to feel bad in the morning. That's why, most of the time, the lush knows how to stay sharp when the hard stuff starts flowing.

Whether he likes it or not, this easy lucidity under the influence makes the lush the designated driver of emotions and behavior at the bar. Frankly, the bartender is too busy to corral all of the people he poisons, especially when it's so easy to just keep serving them or kick them out when they start to cause trouble. The lush in front of the bar has a different responsibility. The drunk amateurs are in the grasp of a chemical they don't understand. It's bad form and even spiritually reprehensible to take advantage of them or join them in their behavior. The lush has a pact with alcohol, a certain level of professional respect. It's a hell of a gamble for him to get careless knowing just what a beast booze can be.

So, the drunk amateur and the addicted sod alike will entreat the lush to "come sit over here" or "let me buy you a drink, friend" but the lush is honor-bound to refuse. Let the amateurs enjoy one another's company. They can make their mistakes together. But the lush shouldn't pretend that the amateurs can do what he does. They can't maintain a stable personality through pools of liquor. They can't conduct themselves with dignity or hold off on tomorrow's regrets. Just like it's a kind of rape to have sex with someone who's only interested because they're drunk, it's harmful to be friendly with those who are only interested in bar-side companionship because they're drunk. The lush should keep his seat and accept no gifts from the amateurs or the alcoholics. That's giving up control, which is dangerous when a man's got a habit that naturally limits inhibition and has addictive properties.

Of course, there are always exceptions. Once in a long while, two lushes meet on a sodden night. Every now and then, the lush needs to make a mistake. It keeps him honest, keeps him informed about his habit. But he shouldn't make a habit of playing the friend to drunk strangers. There's only hurt and danger down that road.

Pages