[For previous blogs please visit “blog archive” to the lower left of this screen. Click on the small black arrows for a drop down list of all the blogs.]
Note: The “fan box” to the left is new to this space. I’m not sure what the advantage is but it’s connected to Facebook and was recommended as a tool to broadcast this blog (or perhaps it’s just another way to communicate with everyone). I’ll keep it up for a few weeks to see what develops and may or may not continue with it. It’s fun to try new things. There’s also a link further down that may be clicked to follow me on Twitter.
Last week I wrote about alcoholism and had planned to discuss my special dislike of beer in that blog. Once I started writing about beer I realized it deserved a blog all of its own.
Almost every time I run an errand I see someone carrying a huge colorful, cardboard cube filled with beer cans. These cubes are very heavy and the bearer strains while lugging it down the street. Quite often these cubes are escorted all the way to someone’s home on foot. I’ve often wondered if the person lives near the store and simply walks over to get his or her supply, or if there’s a grim reason why he or she isn’t hefting the cube into the back of a car. I see it so often that we are either blessed with environmentally aware beer drinkers who prefer to walk rather than poison the air with vehicle emissions or, more likely, they are forbidden to drive any longer. I’ve observed people walking down the street with a toddler happily kicking away inside the stroller while a huge beer cube teeters precariously on top of the canopy. Though the cubes come in a couple of sizes, I mostly see the giant cubes. Sometimes I see beer cubes in shopping carts with children sitting in the little built in seats. Diapers and beer. Throw in a hatchet and we have a horror movie.
Beer is a worldwide respected beverage. It’s an ancient beverage and anthropologists all over the world have discovered methods for the production of beer in many ancient cultures at dig sites. Perhaps it is not quite the same as the beer consumed today but the point is, beer has been here quite some time.
I may have an allergy related to ingredients used in the preparation of beer. For some reason the mere smell of a pitcher of beer sitting on a table while out to eat with friends is enough to put me off my meal. I not only do not like the taste of beer but I can’t stand the smell. I especially dislike the smell emanating from a body filled with beer.
Beer drinkers have a propensity to belch and fart uncontrollably. At least that’s their explanation: “Oh, sorry, I just couldn’t control that one.” I rarely hear this from people who have just eaten a bowl of beans. Though the bean eater still oozes odors, beer drinkers explode with odors (along with the odor of their breath and stuff that comes out of their pores). And let’s not forget the bathroom. Something happens to the bowels of a beer drinker. It’s not pleasant. The body aroma of a beer drinker the morning after a night of binging beer is foul and their first trip to the bathroom in the morning just about ruins that little room. Add a large meal containing garlic to the beer drinker’s digestive track the previous evening and the morning trip to the bathroom can ruin an entire home. Beer and garlic do not do well in the digestive track. The next morning the combination is a medley of putrid odors that thankfully I have not had to endure for many years now. However, I can still sort of smell them as I write this blog. Ew.
When I first came of an age where I wanted to experiment with alcohol, beer was the logical choice. It had been in my home and in many of the homes I visited since birth. I tried the occasional sip at home and didn’t like it. As I got older more and more of the people I knew were drinking beer. In social situations I often would take the offered beer and nurse it for an entire day or evening faking sips. My salvation was that most people were drunk and were not monitoring my consumption. The usual routine was to casually go to the bathroom and pour it down the drain. Early on I decided I needed another form of alcohol to be “part of the crowd” and rum and Coke fit the bill. I managed to make a fool of myself on several occasions during this experimental phase. I also tried Screwdrivers and they almost killed me. For years I couldn’t drink orange juice. Even now I sometimes swear I can taste vodka with my morning orange juice.
Perhaps because beer is relatively inexpensive compared to other alcohol it’s the drink of choice for many people, especially young people just starting out in the world of possible addictions that are presented to them. Marijuana is called the gateway drug (leading to other drugs) but I believe beer is a much more sinister and insidious gateway drug. It’s legal and so easy to obtain and if one is under age an older friend or even a stranger in exchange for a little “tip” can purchase it more easily than pot. People who wouldn’t be caught dead smoking a joint would not hesitate to down a pony keg.
Beer can also be somewhat of a gourmet beverage when made by a fancy little microbrewery or a foreign brewery that has been making famous beer for centuries. I have tried some of these beers at the urging of my beer-drinking friends and I’m always left with a terrible taste in my mouth after a sip and can’t go forward. Some have begged me to finish a glass to get the full body and flavor of the brew and by the end of the glass (or mug) I’m done for. It usually requires a quick trip to the ladies room.
But beer also carries with it emotional issues for me. Most of the alcoholics I’ve been exposed to all of my life were heavy beer drinkers. Some also consumed other alcohol before, during, and after consumption of beer but the beer factor was always primary. (I’ve been exposed to world-class drinkers.) Along with their bizarre boozed up behavior they all had that familiar and nauseating odor coming from every pore and edifice in their bodies. And of course, drunks always want to get close to everyone and hang all over them. Some drunks consider themselves hilarious, charming, sexy, extremely knowledgeable, and great lovers. Their sober victims feel embarrassed, mauled and pawed and sometimes physically hurt, albeit unintentionally, but the mauling and pawing comes with the alcoholic’s inability to maneuver their various body parts properly. And they are far from knowledgeable in a drunken stupor. I also recall friends coming to work bright and early in the morning and as I passed them wishing them a “good morning” I was hit with the odor--the distinct beer drinking to excess odor--so familiar to me. A lifetime of familiarity.
I’ve discussed this aversion to beer with many people and one friend pointed out that though there truly may be an allergy related problem with beer for me, perhaps I’m allergic to hops, they believe it’s the behavior of the beer drinkers that has put me off the beverage. I’ve thought about that long and hard and I agree. True, I don’t like beer’s taste but why do I loathe the beverage to the extent that I do? It’s the years and years of watching lives being tossed down the toilet (literally) and the influence it’s had on me and my desire to live an alcoholic free life. I say “alcoholic” free life as opposed to an “alcohol” free life because I no longer am required to suffer the presence of an alcoholic. Further, I do believe it’s possible to enjoy alcohol in moderation.
The extent to which I have avoided beer and beer drinkers is legendary among my family and friends. When invited to beer drinking events such as a Super Bowl party I always decline. The sheer volume of beer at those events is staggering and turns the sports fans into raving idiots. The smell in the “entertainment” room is overwhelming then add the exaggerated screaming and table pounding and I’m ready for a padded room. It will, therefore, come as no surprise that I don’t like football either. I don’t like competitive sports at all (a topic for a future blog) but football is at the top of that list. Another friend suggests that my dislike of football and beer, partners always, is all of the aforementioned associations. It’s true. Just the word “football” conjures up smells and sounds I can’t suppress. Other sports do the same for me but football is the king of bad behavior in a social situation.
One of the earliest misconceptions I had to overcome in my youth was that beer drinkers weren’t alcoholics. Beer drinkers perpetuated that myth. Countless times I heard them state, “Well, I’m not an alcoholic. I just drink beer.” They weren’t lying. They believed that malarkey. So did I. Again, I come from the era where an alcoholic slept in the gutter after drinking whiskey all night. Someone who just drank beer and held down a job and had friends and clean clothes couldn’t possibly be in the same category as the whiskey or wine guzzling gutter bum. Little did I realize then that the path to living in a gutter often starts with drinking beer to excess. People aren’t born in the gutter. They arrive there after they can no longer manage their addiction and the last little effort they can muster to go to work each day. Beer tends to lead the way.
I like coffee.
www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com
[No part of this content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.]
