Bottoms Up

Hard as it may be to believe if you watch basic cable, I and many of my closest friends attended a public US high school, and never had a drop of alcohol before earning our diplomas.

And yet while certainly exhibiting many nerdy qualities, we weren't outcasts, we weren't ostracized or treated like buzzkills, we were pretty typical kids. In fact, we often mocked our classmates who did drink regularly, because we knew we had something invaluable that they seemed to be missing: we knew how to have fun without it.

That might sound like it's been copied verbatim from a PSA, but frankly I don't care, because it's probably one of the most vital lessons I've ever learned firsthand. And moreover, it's a point I've tried to hammer home before, but I want to elaborate upon it a little more.

On the whole, most contemporary kids don't possess the mental maturity to entertain themselves; they require toys, or video games, or TV shows. As they enter adolescence however their intellect begins to grow, and accordingly many of their old hobbies are no longer interesting enough. Searching for ways to fill this void, they might follow one of two major roads. The first one is the easy way out: pushing the boundaries by experimenting with alcohol or other controlled substances. The second one, the one I was lucky enough to stumble across through a combination of fear of authority, a remarkable lack of peer pressure, and an exceptional supporting cast of friends, is creativity. I was able to tap into my creative potential, which was more powerful than ever as my brain developed, and expand it into a self-sustaining resource I still rely upon to this day. And while many can and do discover this wellspring later in life, one of the most somber things I've begun to observe the longer I spend in the adult world is that are at least as many who never appear able to.

(And naturally there are infinite shades of gray between and alternatives to these two outcomes, but I stand by the larger principle.)

However the intent of this post isn't merely to recount and denigrate all the ills of drinking, I'm no teetotaler, but rather to investigate some of the myriad ways it affects us, both for better and worse. For my personal history with alcohol is a complicated one spanning from occasional extreme highs to the lowest of lows, and can perhaps serve as one microcosm for the tumultuous role it plays in our culture at large.

As described, I abstained from drinking before college, and know that I am better off for it. By some amazing coincidence, the dorm wing I was placed in my freshman year of college (at a major public university no less) was also chock full of non-drinkers, many of whom are still some of my best friends. And while we nearly all drink today to some degree, back then our mutual feeling that it wasn't something we needed to rush let us ease into it with much healthier habits, rather than getting pushed into the deep end like so many kids do their first year on campus.

All that said, it is true that I was still more reluctant than most to drink at that stage in life (and, I'm a bit ashamed to admit, a small private piece of me even self-righteously looked down upon those who drank). But while probably a little more tentative than was necessary, I had my reasons.

• I thought most of the very limited types of beer and liquor I had tried tasted like tainted well-water.
• I didn't get the appeal of being drunk, and moreover, didn't want to jeopardize my grades or academic standing by getting a minor or simply being too hungover to finish my work (staying on task was hard enough as it was sober).
• I was a poor college student working two part-time jobs, so why would I waste my money on something I didn't even enjoy?
• Most of my friends didn't drink either, so I didn't feel compelled to do so to have fun or be social.

After college however, nearly all of these rationales ceased to exist.

I moved to a state where the production of alcohol was a cornerstone of the economy and an almost integral part of socializing. I was of legal drinking age. I had expendable income, but no homework on the weekends. And it turns out there are actually a lot of delicious drinks out there, especially if you live in a craft beer mecca like the one I've found myself in (and again, with a little bit of income with which to actually afford nice beer).

I still didn't dive in headfirst out of the gate, but it's safe to say I've come to enjoy and appreciate drinking from a number of different angles now.

For one, I finally began to understand the differences between all the various types of beer out there and how my tastes fell in line with them (Porters please!). For really the first time, having a drink was actually something I might look forward to, rather than just an act to suffer through for the sake of appearances.

It's also a great icebreaker with most people. If nothing else it provides a common topic of conversation about preferences, and usually it helps folks open up either because they're happier and more at ease, because they're a little bit buzzed and have less inhibitions, or some combination of the two.

To take it a step further, I also started to recognize just how fun the effects of tossing a few back can be on a personal level too, (particularly when it comes to being more open). I remember once asking one of my high school friends after he started drinking during college why he did it, and he simply said, "sometimes it's just good to feel different."

I balked at this reply a little, partially because I felt like he was implying that being sober and having fun the way we'd always done wasn't enough for him. I didn't actually verbalize that, but he must have read my expression because he quickly assured me that while he knew people who felt the need to be almost constantly under the influence of some substance because "reality wasn't good enough" for them (a thought that made me profoundly sad), for him it was more of a sporadic fun way to let loose.

It would still be years before I really gave this advice a try, happy enough with my life as it was, but now I see that there are a host of potential positive outcomes (emphasis on potential).

First of all, there's a certain state I hit occasionally, usually after two or three swiftly consumed drinks, where I feel almost super-human. Sometimes it manifests itself as unbridled joy; everything seems amazing and I'm unbelievably happy. Other times it's as if I'm bulletproof, I'm overflowing with energy and feel like nothing can stand in my way, like a video-game character who's swallowed some magical potion that makes him supercharged or invulnerable. I always wish my biggest problems were within reach when in this frame of mind because I would tackle them head-on with the strength and confidence (if not tact) of a dozen men. Instead it usually just ends with me finding some physical activity to engage in whether dancing up a storm, running, or something else, but it's still a wonderful way to blow off steam. Or lastly, I may just become ultra giggly and find the world much funnier than normal; it's almost like recapturing a piece of childhood.

Before all you underage kiddos out there run out to try this for yourselves though, I should clarify several points. This buzz isn't something I regularly go looking for and it doesn't happen every time I drink. Second, this probably isn't true for everyone, but even when experiencing this high (or even a few drinks beyond it), my boring inner-mom still keeps me rooted enough to know that I am indeed still mortal; I'm never going to be that kid who tries to jump off a roof for kicks. And even with this hidden tether to reality, while I may think I'm doing things that are pretty safe, my judgement is still not operating at peak capacity, and even if it were, activities that would normally be safe are inherently more difficult when my coordination and motor skills are also impaired. Translation: The odds of me falling on my face are substantially greater. And finally, while I'm a far cry from the most mature person on the planet, I don't think it's a stretch to assume that the inherent likelihood of me, or anyone, doing something stupid while drinking is even higher when they're teenagers then when they're older.

It's also worth mentioning that I've found that level, that almost manic nirvana, on at least as many instances while sober too. I've experienced it with large groups of friends during high school and college, often during impromptu moments that build and build until they transcend into something weird and unforgettable. I've found it while playing or watching sports, when something gets me amped up with adrenaline. And oh have I ever found it with music, most often fast-paced dance songs.

But back to booze.

After the occasional frenzied bliss, my favorite part of drinking is simply the social bonding it can help facilitate. It can be as basic as getting to know someone better over a shared pitcher, or it can serve as the catalyst for breaking down barriers or forming some truly meaningful connections. And it's this latter variety that I really dig.

The first time I ever saw one of my best friends from college drunk was towards the end of our junior year. He was so happy he couldn't help but walk around to each of us in the group one-by-one, put his arm around us, and tell us all really heartfelt compliments and about how much our friendship meant to him.

Especially for guys, and the lingering suppression of feelings that comes with our outdated brand of American masculinity, this is sort of a big deal. I'd like to think my college friends and I are more comfortable than most at sharing our mutual affection with one another, but it still isn't something that happens often with that depth of feeling. It made me feel genuinely good and happy because I could tell he meant it. What's the saying? In PBR Veritas?

I've definitely tried to take advantage of that myself over the years in a number of ways, whether it be showering others with deserved praise, apologizing for long past (and often long forgotten) transgressions, or confessing deeply held secrets.

Sometimes it truly is driven by the alcohol dissolving my filter, but honestly often they're things that I'd like to say anyway but fear people would find strange if I said them sober. In essence, I use drinking as my cover and pretend like it's just liquid courage taking hold.

In fact, I've used drinking as an excuse to do all sorts of things that I think others will deem more acceptable if they know I've been imbibing. Many of these are of a performatory nature. It might be giving a monologue, singing, reciting a poem, or just wrapping someone in an excessively long bear hug. (Though again, sometimes these are probably expedited in the traditional sense by getting a bit loopy while drinking too).

It should also be noted that nearly all of these benefits require the presence of other people, whether to confide in, compliment, play games with, or merely act as an audience. As such, I am almost exclusively a social drinker; if the day ever comes that I get sauced by myself it will be time to step back and take stock, thankfully though that's never something that's even seemed tempting to me.

And of course not all the effects of drinking are positive either. Far from it.

Some people seem to have the same kind of reaction whenever they have a few too many. They get reputations as being an angry drunk, or flirty, or mellow.

For me there are certainly trends, as outlined above, but it seems more as if drinking exaggerates whatever my current mood is already. If I'm happy or excited, which I often am when drinking since I'm almost always with friends, this is great. But other times it can lead down a less pleasant path. Sometimes I get paranoid, I start recounting dumb things I did (or think I did) and become convinced people think I'm pathetic or stupid or awkward, or that my actions have been misinterpreted, or that the cops are coming for me because I didn't sort the recycling properly that one time six years ago.

Or maybe the regret won't come that night, but the next morning - and I don't just mean hangovers. I'll go through the same thought process sober, tabulating all the seemingly dumb or showboat-y things I did while drinking the night before and feeling embarrassed. On occasion it may even be some mean-spirited comment or Freudian slip I can't take back. Much of this remorse may be a byproduct of my overly self-conscious mind, but the feeling is still very real.

But as long as we're talking about regrets, hangovers do need to be addressed too. If there's one foolproof way to measure my young adult aging process, it seems to be through the severity of my hangovers. The first time I ever truly got inebriated was during a friend's 21st birthday. I had 5 or 6 drinks and when I got home I started to worry about the after effects. Heeding a roommate's tip I pounded a couple glasses of water and hit the hay. I woke up the next morning right as rain. I don't think I ever even experienced one until well after college ended, but nowadays even a single stiff drink may leave me with a gnarly headache come sunrise.

For this reason I've begun to even more strongly embrace the idea that drinking is an opportunity that should be taken advantage, whether through unique action or conversation. If it's going to leave me with a migraine the next day either way, what's the point of getting tipsy if I don't do something I wouldn't otherwise?

Thankfully for me, those are about the worst consequences my body has thus far personally experienced from alcohol, but the list of possible pratfalls is much lengthier and more severe.

For starters, while most simply become obnoxious or sleepy when they've been drinking, others may get legitimately violent, whether toward themselves or others. Some people begin looking for a fight - taking the most innocent comments as personal slights and a cause for retaliation. More than once some belligerent oaf has picked me out of a crowd for no apparent reason and tried to get me to fight them, even pulling me towards them despite my professions of complete disinterest. Fortunately these situations have all been defused before more happened, usually due to the intervention of my friends, but many aren't so lucky. Alcohol related violence, whether domestic abuse or a bar brawl, is an all too common occurrence leaving a trail of physical and emotional harm in its wake, let alone legal troubles.

And then there are those for whom liquor is an escape, a refuge through which people try and drink away their sorrows - almost universally without success. Those, as my friend described long-ago, for whom reality isn't good enough. Oftentimes this develops into dependency which just leads the situation to spiral even further out of control via a concentrated dose of many of alcohol's other repercussions: physical and psychological damage, interpersonal conflict, money problems, an inability to work, and on and on. I've had to witness some very close to me fight through these demons, and it's a torture I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Or alternately, alcoholism may develop simply through unfortunate genetics, or perhaps even a frequent search for a good buzz that becomes a little too routine. You don't have to be down in the dumps to become addicted, but no matter what door you take to get there, the purgatory is the same.

Mention must also be made of the more discrete long term health ramifications. While nausea and fatigue may seem like the end-times the day after a bender, the cumulative damage done to one's body over a lifetime of drinking is probably the scarier prospect. Liver failure due to cirrhosis is the most common serious ailment, but pancreas failure and cancer are close behind (to say nothing of fetal alcohol syndrome). To quote the internet, "The long-term use of alcohol is capable of damaging nearly every organ and system in the body," and further, "one in 10 of all cancers in men... (are) caused by past or current alcohol intake." Though for the sake of being balanced, "Protective effects of moderate drinking are reported for cardiovascular disease, diabetes type 2 and cognitive functioning."

And now, I'm afraid, we must confront the most sobering part of our agenda: drunk driving. I can and have written and voiced my thoughts on this issue at great length elsewhere, but for the purposes of this particular piece I'll try to be succinct. The potential to violently end the life of an innocent bystander without warning using a 1.5 ton steel machine surely must be the most tragic frequent consequence of irresponsible drinking.

Several years ago a high school classmate and intermittent friend of mine was killed by a repeat offense impaired driver. A very good friend of mine, and the victim's best friend, was present when it happened. For obvious reasons I have numerous strong feelings on the topic. I was in the unique position to be just distant enough from him that his death didn't devastate me, but near enough to see and hear the absolutely heartrending years-long impact such a careless act can leave in its wake for the loved ones left behind.

If nothing else it has left me with an especially acute sensitivity to and rejection of drunk driving. And while the large-scale origins of and solutions to the epidemic it has become are muddled and complex, it both amazes and hurts me how many of my friends will continue to try and drive drunk before my very eyes even after knowing my history and position on the matter. So for once I'll keep it simple. Please just don't do it, and if one of your friends tries to please don't let them, even if it makes things awkward.

From a broader perspective, all of these varied effects from alcohol take a massive literal toll on society, costing billions of public dollars to account for health care and insurance, law enforcement, and lost productivity. Adopting a cold capitalistic view, I'd be curious to see how these costs compared to the total economic revenue generated by the industry, but as far too many of us know, the most excruciating impacts can't be measured in dollars, no matter how lucrative the enterprise.

While it does ultimately boil down to individual responsibility, we can't ignore culture's significant role in fostering and now propagating a system that has resulted in this state leading the nation in binge drinking and drunk driving rates. The lens of policy bears examining as well, for whether it's a chicken-or-the-egg phenomenon, it would seem asinine to discount the fact that Wisconsin is also the only state in the union where a first offense DWI is not a crime but a mere traffic violation, as pure happenstance.

Recreational drinking is almost a way of life here. Many kids grow up having beers with their families from a young age. Character judgements are made based on alcohol tolerance. Excessive drinking is celebrated as a feat. The local baseball team is named the Brewers for pete's sake.

I was once describing to someone I'd just met, in an even tone of voice, how much more prominent drinking was here relative to my adjacent home state. He immediately got defensive, retorting "Is that a problem?!"

When an institution is glamorized to such a degree and embedded in so many facets of public life, it's no small wonder the state is littered with an outsized number of alcoholics, and home to 12 of the 20 "drunkest" cities in the US.

Though even if an observer were to shrug off all these macro factors as irrelevant, and claim that personal choice was the sole determinant for every alcohol related tragedy, I'd still refuse to immediately write off every offender or DWI-er as a worthless scum-sack. Mostly because alcoholism really is an 800 pound gorilla, (and moreover, the premise that we each live in our own vacuum up until the moment of catastrophe is preposterous).

I tend to take a more sympathetic tack then might be expected. In the weeks after my friend was killed, I wrote down some of my thoughts, one of which was that I believed I would forever carry a "seething disdain" for anyone who drank and drove. Some such folks may still be despicable (see, for one, the man who killed one of my childhood idols), but my stance has softened a bit. In all instances drunk drivers have done something incredibly selfish, but there's a difference between inexcusable and unforgivable.

It's a depressingly ubiquitous problem. According to a recent article, back in Minnesota 1 out every 7 licensed drivers in the state has at least one DWI, and those are just the one's they've caught. These law-breakers come in all stripes and the circumstances around their violations are all unique.

But while we shouldn't demonize them, they can't be let off the hook either. So what is the answer on the policy end? I wish I knew, but a few basic things seem obvious to me:

These people have placed their convenience over the lives of others. While it's almost inconceivable to me, presumably many of them didn't fully think through the potential outcomes in this grave light when getting behind the wheel, but it seems as if making first time offenses a crime in this state would help impart the seriousness of the action to the perpetrator. Ideally this would help make the first offense an anomaly and discourage future intoxicated drives by the individual.

For repeat offenders the priority should be this: get them off the road. At this point, to me, they've become a public safety threat. Specifics of whether this should come in the form of rehabilitation or jail-time would of course need to be hammered out.

There are legitimate questions to ask about whether harsher minimum penalties should be instilled for repeat offenses. Are they or should they be more intended to punish convicted criminals or dissuade potential future actors from committing an offense ahead of time? The problem with writing laws that apply to everyone is that everyone's particular situation, and the way they're likely to react to different stimuli, varies. Is the goal to create the safest society possible? The most fair? For some, fear of harsher punishment may act as a deterrent to drunk driving, but many would never factor that into their decision. At the same time, making laws too flexible opens up a system to corruption. And all of these laws have to conform to the rigid realities of a government budget.

In most cases it's likely repeat offenders weren't simply making isolated mistakes, but are full blown addicts, and I would lean towards rehab as the initial sentence of choice (but again, using discretion based on the particulars). As Mitch Hedberg famously said, alcoholism is the only disease that you can get yelled at for having.

Who knows, maybe soon Google cars will be chauffeuring all of us and drunk driving will be a thing of the past.

And what about from the cultural end of things? That's an even trickier question.

Many say that kids growing up drinking with their parents is a good thing because it allows them to develop healthier customs in a controlled environment. Maybe that works out well for some, but based on the stats it sure doesn't seem that way. The problem seems to be that the traditions passed down aren't ones of moderation; over consumption is romanticized or, more than that, normalized. DWI's are written or even laughed off, rather than viewed as matters of life and death. When a community idealizes an act so readily they're bound to end up with complications that stem from excessive use.

People feel left out if they don't drink and not everyone is equally adept at cutting themselves off or knowing and abiding by their limits; in fact some are biologically predisposed against it. Which isn't to excuse irresponsible drinkers, but to suggest that preaching responsible drinking habits, rather than a reverence for bingeing, could be a good first step to making this state a safer one. (And perchance even a more profitable one; breweries and taverns can't sustain their profits if their best customers are all dead or on dialysis. Wait what's that? Big Tobacco's on Line 1?).



I was extremely fortunate in a lot of ways regarding the formation of my drinking patterns. I faced almost no pressure to drink as a teen, for which I am incredibly grateful. Instead I was building friendships that helped shape who I am, helped me grow a sharper wit and sense of humor, and helped me discover far more rewarding and healthier pastimes. (And reaching back even further, I seem to have been blessed with genes that are less susceptible to addiction, a natural inclination towards self-preservation, and absolutely with a stable nurturing childhood).

Now I have a sturdy enough foundation that when I choose to drink it's most often a positive experience for me. I don't need it as an escape to drown my woes, or feel the urge to search for the high it can provide. It's a way to supplement fun with my friends, or it can be an occasional means of hysteric fun unto itself, but not the sole source. In fact, I've actually found a way to co-opt drinking as the means to exhibit the creative interests I was developing instead of drinking in my younger days.

Or it can help me meet new people, open up dialogue with old friends and grow even closer to them, or inspire me to take bold action.

Even so, I believe I could, without much difficulty, go the rest of my life without drinking. The main challenge would be the social aspect of it, it's a way to bond here and people might get annoyed or even offended if I didn't participate. But it certainly wouldn't be because I was bored.

And even I, with this strong support system, am not immune to the dark sides of the drink. My reactions span the spectrum from invincible to insecure. My next morning might feel like a lethargic daze. I might say or do things I wish I hadn't. And I'm fully aware that drinking is a wildcard; while my negatives have been relatively tame to date, I know I'm playing with firewater and something far worse could befall me no matter how "safe" I may think I'm being.

It's fine to cut loose now and then with a spirit-ed evening, I do it, I'd encourage it! But please: know what you're getting in for and have a gameplan in mind, - that way we can all came back for seconds.