Today we celebrate Fat Tuesday so of course tomorrow is Ash Wednesday marking the beginning of the Lenten Season on the liturgical calendar or in my house growing up the beginning of listening to my mom bitch about giving up candy for forty days and making the rest of the family feel bad about it. You know, basically being catholic. Even though this is a season of solemn thought and prayer for me and other Catholics across the globe at least tomorrow I get to play my favorite game of the year which is spot the Catholic. What you do is every time you see someone with ashes on their forehead you drink. What’s the point of this game you ask? Well what’s the point of any game really? It’s all arbitrary. That doesn’t make it any less entertaining. Have a drink.
So far this has been a great year throughout the colder regions of the country for another time honored tradition. The adult Snow Day.
The adult snow day is a magical thing. The adult snow day is when not only schools are closed due to inclement weather but many businesses that are considered nonessential shut themselves down for the safety of themselves, their customers, and their employees. As adults what do we do on such magical days? Well we drink of course. When the Snow and ice have stopped and the roads have become again passable we make our way to our vehicles. Some will find themselves in their grocers cooler trying to find just the right selection of malted beverage. Others are in the wine aisle wondering does a snow storm go well with white or red wine. Then you have the liquor drinkers the scotch men, the gin gals, or maybe even the rum runners. These folks usually have their favorites at the ready for any occasion to celebrate.
Then there is another breed, a rare breed, the barfly. These are creatures of habit. They go out once, twice, three or more times a week to the same watering hole. Their chosen place is usually never too far from where they lay their buzzed heads at night. They have a favorite place to sit, a favorite thing to drink, and a favorite person to bring it to them. They are what many might call functional alcoholics. This is what makes the adult snow day so special for the barfly. The barfly doesn’t have to be at work, the bar fly has no responsibility today; they get up at the same time but have nowhere to go. The barflies they make their coffee once, twice, or maybe even more just because they can. They may not want that coffee but they have it and they enjoy it none the less.
The barfly goes to the window and surveys the land. Yes, there is snow on the ground but the barfly sees the sun making its way through the clouds. It’s only a matter of time now but first, how about that fourth cup of coffee with another quiet sit on the couch petting the dog or possibly cat. The barfly it smiles. The barfly it knows.
The time is now slightly after 10am enough time to do a few chores, maybe a small load of laundry. After all the barfly’s favorite sweatshirt could use a wash. With the rhythmic shake of the Maytag massaging the barfly’s ears they move back to the coffee maker, the pot empty. Never short on grounds a simple reach into the cabinet ensures the caffeine keeps flowing. It has nothing to do with wanting to be awake, really. It has everything to do with the freedom of the adult snow day. You do things you would not normally do and with quick check of the time and look down reveals the barfly is still in the clothes they slept in and it’s nearly 11 o’clock. The Maytag stops spinning, this signals to the barfly they have just enough time to press brew on the Mr. Coffee, switch the clothes to the dryer, return for that last cup of coffee, and prepare for what’s ahead.
Before the barfly gets in the shower the heat is turned a few degrees higher. After all it is cold outside. The shower is slow, satisfying. Ever so enjoyable, almost as good as an extra 25 minutes in bed. The barfly cannot dilly dally, the barfly knows there are others that are like minded and their presence is not only expected it’s nearly demanded. The alarm on the dryer buzzes cutting through the silence of the barfly’s living space letting them know it is time to go.
The barfly with a near leap jumps from the shower. Frantic, they dry themselves and bound to the clothes dryer to feel the embrace of warm and fresh clothing against their clean skin. The barfly rumbles down the stairs and checks themselves before they burst through the front door and down the sidewalk. Only a few blocks away, the barfly moves with purpose wrapped in a few layers of clothes perhaps one or two more or less than they should but their family needs them. The barfly arrives. They are not the first one there. There is a hand full of others. The ones you would expect.
They all huddle on one side of the room. You know them by name. There’s Creepy Mike, Lazy Lisa, Old Man Johnson (who may or may not be a World War II war criminal), Perpetually Out of Work Pete, they guy who’s name could be Brian but no one really knows, and of course the bartender, Alex-the slightly through her prime woman who you can tell in her day would have been something to look at but always pours your beer perfect but never gets the food order right.
These are the rare ones. These are the barflies and this is an adult snow day and these are the days the barfly lives for.
So far this has been a great year throughout the colder regions of the country for another time honored tradition. The adult Snow Day.
The adult snow day is a magical thing. The adult snow day is when not only schools are closed due to inclement weather but many businesses that are considered nonessential shut themselves down for the safety of themselves, their customers, and their employees. As adults what do we do on such magical days? Well we drink of course. When the Snow and ice have stopped and the roads have become again passable we make our way to our vehicles. Some will find themselves in their grocers cooler trying to find just the right selection of malted beverage. Others are in the wine aisle wondering does a snow storm go well with white or red wine. Then you have the liquor drinkers the scotch men, the gin gals, or maybe even the rum runners. These folks usually have their favorites at the ready for any occasion to celebrate.
Then there is another breed, a rare breed, the barfly. These are creatures of habit. They go out once, twice, three or more times a week to the same watering hole. Their chosen place is usually never too far from where they lay their buzzed heads at night. They have a favorite place to sit, a favorite thing to drink, and a favorite person to bring it to them. They are what many might call functional alcoholics. This is what makes the adult snow day so special for the barfly. The barfly doesn’t have to be at work, the bar fly has no responsibility today; they get up at the same time but have nowhere to go. The barflies they make their coffee once, twice, or maybe even more just because they can. They may not want that coffee but they have it and they enjoy it none the less.
The barfly goes to the window and surveys the land. Yes, there is snow on the ground but the barfly sees the sun making its way through the clouds. It’s only a matter of time now but first, how about that fourth cup of coffee with another quiet sit on the couch petting the dog or possibly cat. The barfly it smiles. The barfly it knows.
The time is now slightly after 10am enough time to do a few chores, maybe a small load of laundry. After all the barfly’s favorite sweatshirt could use a wash. With the rhythmic shake of the Maytag massaging the barfly’s ears they move back to the coffee maker, the pot empty. Never short on grounds a simple reach into the cabinet ensures the caffeine keeps flowing. It has nothing to do with wanting to be awake, really. It has everything to do with the freedom of the adult snow day. You do things you would not normally do and with quick check of the time and look down reveals the barfly is still in the clothes they slept in and it’s nearly 11 o’clock. The Maytag stops spinning, this signals to the barfly they have just enough time to press brew on the Mr. Coffee, switch the clothes to the dryer, return for that last cup of coffee, and prepare for what’s ahead.
Before the barfly gets in the shower the heat is turned a few degrees higher. After all it is cold outside. The shower is slow, satisfying. Ever so enjoyable, almost as good as an extra 25 minutes in bed. The barfly cannot dilly dally, the barfly knows there are others that are like minded and their presence is not only expected it’s nearly demanded. The alarm on the dryer buzzes cutting through the silence of the barfly’s living space letting them know it is time to go.
The barfly with a near leap jumps from the shower. Frantic, they dry themselves and bound to the clothes dryer to feel the embrace of warm and fresh clothing against their clean skin. The barfly rumbles down the stairs and checks themselves before they burst through the front door and down the sidewalk. Only a few blocks away, the barfly moves with purpose wrapped in a few layers of clothes perhaps one or two more or less than they should but their family needs them. The barfly arrives. They are not the first one there. There is a hand full of others. The ones you would expect.
They all huddle on one side of the room. You know them by name. There’s Creepy Mike, Lazy Lisa, Old Man Johnson (who may or may not be a World War II war criminal), Perpetually Out of Work Pete, they guy who’s name could be Brian but no one really knows, and of course the bartender, Alex-the slightly through her prime woman who you can tell in her day would have been something to look at but always pours your beer perfect but never gets the food order right.
These are the rare ones. These are the barflies and this is an adult snow day and these are the days the barfly lives for.
THIS BLOG ENTRY WAS WRITTEN UNDER THE INFLUENCE WITH NO PROMOTIONAL CONSIDERATION PAID FOR BY THE FOLLOWING.
Troegs for taste I give you a law enforcement officer considering a career change so he can be inside drinking so someone else can help that schmuck who decided it was a good idea to drive in the middle of the blizzard and for your 7.5% ABV I give you the Southern Eastern United States slipping into anarchy during a winter storm more specifically Raleigh, NC.