Alcohol: Part 1 of an Endless Series

Alcohol. Booze. Liquor. Wine. Beer. Libations. Sauce. Hootch. Juice. The hard stuff. Man, it’s so cemented into my reality that I can’t even fathom a world without it. I grew up in a “heavy-drinking” state. My hometown once had the most bars per capita in the nation. It has one of the largest Oktoberfests (Notsoberfests) in the US. I’ve had jobs in establishments that serve alcohol since I was 15 ½. I attended colleges known for drinking. I currently work in a craft beer bar where my job is to talk about the flavor profiles of alcoholic beverages for eight hours a day (pre-pandemic). Alcohol is there. It always has been. 

Getting together with old friends is always a blast. I mean, who doesn’t like talking to old friends? We relive the hilarity, the adventure, and the awkwardness of times passed. However, every friend group that has conquered adolescence has one moment that changes the way they view past memories. For some it happens in high school and for others, college. That moment is when a group of friends starts collectively engaging in the consumption of alcohol. The memories change from a tangible narrative to a wispy tale floating just above reach. We jump and grab moments, but they always seem fragmented and unattached until they are put together into a single image made of a myriad of pieces by stories shared. Friends fill in the blank spots from the pieces you couldn’t catch. You do likewise for them. Is there anything wrong with this? You tell me. In a lot of ways, such is life.

This fragmentation of reality is fun. Like, really fun. Alcohol is fun. It gives courage, heart, and brain. It turns our finite lives into a yellow brick road of infinite adventure.

I want to talk about my experiences with alcohol and how alcohol influences, harms, and sometimes, accommodates mental health. As the title suggests, this is too big of a topic to assign to a single post. This is a series. Welcome.