Wisdom out of the bottom of a glass

“The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind”

attributed to Humphrey Bogart, actor

Not meaning to sound like a lush, although I been there and done that (note the past tense) I feel that I must agree. The world takes almost everything way too seriously. It gets everybody into a lot of trouble. I’m not suggesting non-stop public drunkeness; that’s often put me on top of a piano clad only in my underwear. But just enough to take the edge off.

Here’s a wonderful case in point: my mother tends to be very, very, very, very (well, you get the idea) negative. Everything sucks. Hey, she’s 91 and I’m sure that a lot of things are hard, and parts hurt or just don’t work as they once did. The simple tasks are more difficult. Don’t feel too sorry: she still drives, has plenty of money, lives in a nice retirement place and walks like a champ.

It’s Sunday and we all went out for a late breakfast/brunch. I was ordering a glass of wine and my husband, somehow talked Mom into getting one, too. Little Dorothy, as I often refer to her, from Kansas has never been much of a drinker. Her Baptist background and depression era frugality never allowed for frivolous purchases like likker. Lo and behold though, she goes for it. I expected this to be another tiring day with my nearest and dearest from which I would need to go straight home ASAP and take a nap to recover.

A nice little shot of wine was just what the old girl needed. It was liberating, if not lubricating. After a few sips, she was almost a delight to be there with. Cindy, says I, it’s a damn shame this woman never learned to drink moderately.

A man that I used to work for in an advertising agency in Salt Lake City had a reputation as a brilliant ad man (that’s what they were called in those halcyon days) but, shall we say, difficult to work for. I found that out when I walked into his office one day only to dodge the phone being thrown across the room and out into the hallway. Somebody had seriously pissed Bill off. You always wanted to make sure you had your backside covered and notes from the meeting when things went amiss.

After a particularly long day at the office we all decided to repair to the nearby lubratorium, or bar. Yes, you can find them in Salt Lake City. Back in those days we slipped the guy a ‘membership fee’  with a grin and ordered up. After about the third Rob Roy I told him that I thought he was a prize asshole.

Too inebriated to run after having said something stunningly stupid, I just sat there waiting for the world to fall in and be fired - shitcanned. That’s not exactly what happened. Bill looked pensively at his third martini and said, “yea, my wife tells me that all the time, so you probably have a point there”. Our relationship changed in that moment, and for the better. We were always on a better, more collegial footing after that. He knew that I knew. That’s all it took.

Finally, I just had an interesting little conversation with our African daughter, Natacha. When she moved in with us she was as pure as the driven snow, although not as white obviously. Well, with out help, like that snow, she’s drifted a little. She’s a cheap drunk unlike myself, but then she only weights about 100 lbs and I weight in at ahhrrummphhhs lbs. So we taught her the art of the perfect Manhattan. I think she only drinks them for the cherries, but she makes a pretty damn good one.

Well, she has her theatre class in the morning and isn’t really comfortable with the idea of improvisational acting and directly engaging the audience. She said that it was too bad that she couldn’t, like, have a beer first. Ah, ha! I had the answer. Quickly dragging her out to the bar, I unearthed the treasure of my fine silver flask that I bought in Prague several years ago. I keep it filled with the makings of a Manhattan for emergencies. I suggested to a giggling skinny African woman that perhaps she take it with, and just before leaving the car to go into class have a snort.

Trooper Chuck, if you’re reading this, I also strongly suggested that she then put the damn thing in the trunk of the car and leave it there until she got back home. I may be a drunk, but I’m a responsible one and DUI isn’t fun.

There it is. If only world leaders could sit down together and have a few, forget where they left their clothes and have to help each other back to their rooms only to wake up on the floor next to the bed with a coat of nasty on their tongues …. well, it would be a much more peaceful place.

Beware the man who tells you doesn’t imbibe.

maven