The Lush Chronicles: Amateur Night Blues

The Lush Chronicles: Amateur Night Blues

There are a handful of nights across the year that invite amateur drinkers to get plastered. Whereas the self-respecting lushes of America are content to caress their livers from the inside on at least a weekly basis, most folks save up the punches on their drunk card for celebrations like St. Patrick's Day, Halloween and, of course, New Year's Eve. Every bartender hates these nights with a passion. People who aren't used to getting drunk have a habit of horribly misbehaving on those nights when they actually do dive into eye-deep booze. This is often embarrassing, violent and all kinds of ugly. Three things in particular happen on Amateur Night that make my marinated heart weep.

The Boiler

Consider, if you will, a bar occupied to the very brink of its capacity. It's a holiday night and most of the people there rarely set foot in establishments like these. It doesn't matter what kind of bar it is, whether a pubby dive, a peculiar microbrewery or a trendy meat market, the atmosphere is the same because two out of every three patrons have no business consuming as much alcohol as they have/are planning to. The close quarters, myriad strangers and flowing intoxicants lead inevitably to confusion which leads inevitably to high emotions which leads inevitably to violence. Somebody in the bar will start a fight at some point. Maybe it's over a spilled drink or some unwanted sexual advances, maybe it's just because amateurs have a way of indulging buried tendencies when they go all-out. All that matters is that the professionals in the room have to keep an eye out for the first swing, and that's never fun or relaxing.

 

The Drunk-Block

We all know the expression "cock-block", the sometimes justified, sometimes uncouth decision to stymie someone's attempt to bed one of your friends. It's a defense mechanism meant to out-compete or protect, but at least it's always intentional. The similar drunk-block is an accidental and thereby more irritating version of the same. Lushes can handle their drink, they can ride a tipsy wave all night with a combination of heightened tolerance and practiced self-control. Amateurs don't know their limits or how to rein themselves in, so they get drunk enough to require supervision. On Amateur Night, lushes have a hell of a time getting laid because their preferred partners, other lushes, usually end up having to babysit their amateur friends when the drinking gets ugly. That's why amateurs get horrible hangovers; it's Dionysus taking his revenge on the enemies of indulgence.

 

The Cab Locusts

Amateur Night means a whole lot of people who shouldn't be driving, or even walking, home. Thus the taxi rush at last call. The amateurs swarm over the available cab population like a biblical plague, leaving the more put-together bar patrons without a reliable means to get home before the sun rises. Even more frustrating are those vultures who poach cabs hailed by other, more respectable people. Alcohol has a tendency to remove social grace, so this ultimate party foul happens far too often on Amateur Night. It's the last insult in a time replete with indignities.