Set ‘Em UP, Barkeep!

 

Set ‘Em UP, Barkeep!

“I’m gonna build me a bar in the back of my car and drive myself to a drink!” It was a simple two-chord song that any beginning guitar player could master in a few minutes. And…... the philosophy at the time was real.

The year was 1964 and my first car, a 1956 Chevy Bel Air would make the perfect platform for a mobile bar. My buddy Ronnie and I set out one Friday night with a single purpose; to get stinking drunk with our bottle of Seagram’s 7, Seven-Up and a little ice. Our bar for the evening would be the dashboard of my car at the Northport Junior High School parking lot (then at Laurel Avenue). It was summertime and the early evening light made the perfect backdrop for this mission.

As night fell, the liquor flowed with increasing imprecision. Before long, the mix favored more Seagram’s than “seven” and so it went until the buzz turned into a shroud of incessant noise. By around eleven that evening, my buddy, Ronnie decided that I was too drunk to drive, demanded the car keys and declared that he would take the helm. By this time, my brain was swimming in a sea of alcohol, but I managed to remember that the car was registered and insured (you guessed it) in Dad’s name. In the event that I was to surrender the keys, and Ronnie was to have an accident (a high probability, given HIS condition), Dad would take the heat, not me. I refused to hand over the keys and we got into a fight.

He opened his door and came around to my side and tried to wrestle the keys away from me, but I fought him off. Finally, in exhaustion, he gave up and stumbled away, leaving me with two open doors, sprawled across the seat. The rest of this evening, I spent throwing up between bouts of semi-consciousness. At some early-morning-hour I was rudely awakened by the question; “hey buddy, are you alright?” It was Northport’s finest with his flashlight shining in my eyes! I had never in my life been formally arrested, but as I squinted into that beam of that light, it seemed my time was at hand. I groaned that I was okay (or more appropriately that I was still ALIVE). The officer admonished me for my lack of good judgment and told me to drive home and sleep it off. DUI hadn’t been invented yet. Somehow, I did just that.

The next day was a very slow start for me and by the time I managed to find my feet, the heat of the day had made it’s omnipresent appearance. I stumbled to my car and when I opened the door, the stench of vomit was overwhelming. The inside door handle-grab was nearly full of a liquid that had eaten the paint right off of the steel cup. There was a disgusting stain trail that led down inside the driver's door window track. Clearly, I had my clean-up assignment in front of me, but it would have to wait until I was physically up to the task. It would be the last time I used my automobile as a bar.

Epilogue: It is interesting to note how our culture has changed in a half-century. The fact that I was THEN told by a law enforcement officer to drive in that condition is a testament to this observation. Nowadays, the penalty for such an infraction would be severe (as well it should be). Although I question it daily, I believe in some ways, we really have made some progress as a people.