Today, I had a discussion about alcohol. Usually, the only time I enjoy alcohol as a topic of conversation is when the bartender asks what kind of vodka I want in my tonic. This time was no different. I hate when people ask why you drink. It's a completely ridiculous question, like asking why you eat chocolate or wear the color red. Like asking a crack fiend why he smokes crack. He likes crack. It makes him feel better. It provides a brief escape from this big, twisted, rigid reality. Let's face it, alcohol really doesn't taste great. You're always going to meet people who say "I don't like the taste," or who will take a sip of your drink and make their face cringe like you just gave them a tall glass of sour milk. I don't care how many fancy garnishes you put on the rim of a martini, or what colorful fruity cute name you give it, you aren't drinking a Cosmopolitan because it's delicious. It isn't.
People will use one excuse after another to disguise the fact that they want a pretty little buzz at some point in the day. It really doesn't matter if you have one drink or ten, the motivation remains the same. Sure, some people drink when they are depressed or angry, or just because it's Tuesday. Some people drink to loosen up, to take the edge off of a long day. Obviously, people really shouldn't drink at all, but it makes no reasonable sense to point fingers. You might as well go around telling smokers that they shouldn't smoke and overeaters that they shouldn't eat. I'm fairly sure they are aware. But thank you for the memo.
My point here, other than confirming the fact that mostly I would prefer people to mind their own business, is that we all have our vices and our small means of escape. I'm pretty sure the majority of the free world has vices. Sex, drugs, talk shows, pick your poison. At least I'm not a serial killer. Buy me a screwdriver or get off my back.