Saturday, May 14, 2016

Family Tradition

Gramma.

The other day, Dave was behind an Uber car with "Whiskey" plates on it.  The WU prefix is used for drunk plates.  A friend of mine just got a DUI.  She likes her Jamison and lots of it.  Dave has it figured out that by the time you are done paying the ticket, attorney fees, higher insurance and the cost of mandatory classes, it comes out to a good ten-thousand dollars.  That buys a lot of beer.   

I will admit that I have done my share of drunk driving, but never got caught.  Dave doesn't drink a whole lot, as it gives him a headache.  I can drink a case of beer and not get a hangover.  I like when I can be the designated drunk.  Since I do not have a spare ten-thousand dollars, I like that my girlfriends have spare beds in case my alcohol content gets too high.

I love beer, especially craft beers.  I like my beer so cold it's just starting to form ice crystals.  I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge base on the subject.  The first thing I do in a new locale is to ask for a local beer.  I have made my own beer, but I drink it so fast that it really doesn't pay, unless you enjoy the process. 

My drinking  began in utero.  One of my earliest memories is of watching the bubbles in my grandfather's beer glass rise to the top.  It was mesmerizing to me.  As I kid, I toured plenty of Wisconsin breweries with relatives.  I was never denied samples. 

I remember going to Drive-In movies with my dad.  He always brought beer.  If he didn't want me to drink it, he shouldn't have left it in the backseat.  So I come by my habit honestly.  Drinking was a family affair. 

Wisconsin tradition is not dead.  Not all that long ago, we were in a rural Wisconsin bar when some grade school boys showed up on a snowmobile.  They handed a note to the bartender, who sent them home with a paper bag full of beer.  Well then.  

My brush with a DUI came after a night of drinking in small town Wisconsin.  "Why aren't your headlights on?" asked the officer.  The streetlights were bright enough that I hadn't noticed they were not on.  "Get out of the car," commanded the big, burly woman.  I painstakingly pulled crutches from the passenger seat and attempted to get out.  I was pathetic,  She told me to get back in the car and turn on my headlights.  I slowly drove away.  They weren't even my crutches.



This is my favorite childhood picture.  I think it should be the photo for an ad promoting high achievement.


 
Be All That You Can Be

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