Given today is St. Patrick's Day, Fifth
Avenue will be flooded with inebriated
suburbanites. Don't ask me why but for
some reason they must swarm the city
to talk too loud and drink too much
green beer. Sadly most of said brew
ends up being redeposited at the curb,
in garbage cans, or over the subway
platform edge. This annual alcoholic
pilgrimage does not seem a suitable
tribute to a saint nor to a people with
cultural roots much deeper than hops
and barley alone. BEGORRAH!
Why is it that teetering on the edge
of alcohol poisoning is now deemed
some sort of rite of passage by many?
The French slowly indoctrinate and
educate their offspring on the proper
usage and levels of booze intake. In
our country lessons in moderation
are rare at best. We blithely send our
children into a sea of liquidity with
nary a word of advice. As a young
man a few booze blackouts quickly
taught me to watch my intake. Why
did I have to learn the hard way?
While on the subject of parental advice,
I must digress. My Father was a kind
gentleman. During my adolescence, we
never had any discussion about the birds
and the bees. My father uttered nothing
about sex until my wedding day. That
morning as I donned my white tie and
tails Howard sat on my bed and shared
the following advice - "I have only one
thing to tell you. Be gentle. Some guys
go wild!" That was it, short and sweet.
And, we never discussed that subject
again for the rest of his life. Case closed.
Fortunately God still cares for those ill
equipped to protect themselves. "M"
my youngest daughter recently found
a well dressed young man asleep in her
alley. Napping upon a flea infested sofa
he still wore an expensive watch with
an i-phone sitting on the cushion beside
him. She kept an eye on him as the day
progressed and somehow he and all of
his goodies survived. Several hours later
he was gone. One can only surmise his
surprise upon awakening. Chances are
he was more than itching to sober up!
Several years ago I had to attend a
holiday dinner hosted by the big
cheese. I had a cold so I stoked up
on antihistamines, cough, and cold
meds. Upon arrival I downed two
Bombay Martinis. Minutes later
my colleagues spied me sitting in
a catatonic state across the table.
Unfortunately the combination of
booze and over the counter drugs
created a lethal brew. Fortunately
they helped Frank carry me to the
car and take me back into the city!
Too much of anything can diminish
one's ability to be rational. Somehow
our culture is all about excuses rather
than restraint. Nobody wants anybody
to tell them no. And there's nothing as
fun as doing something you shouldn't
do. Whether that's drinking, screwing,
eating, or shopping doesn't matter.
The repercussions of over indulgence
is what we should be worrying about.
Before you end up a drunk singing
Abby's Irish Rose in a green diaper
atop a bar in Flushing, GO HOME.