Monday, October 14, 2019     Volume: 20, Issue: 32

Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on June 16th, 2015, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 16, Issue 15 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [] - Volume 16, Issue 15

Day drinking: It's harder than you think


It’s true, I’ve been known to imbibe from time to time. Now, I don’t claim to be an Olympic-level drinker by any means. But I can handle an Irish Car Bomb, a shot of Tequila, and use a beer bong just as good as any college frat boy worth his weight in recycled beer bottles. However, there is one drinking grace I have yet to master and that is day drinking.

Day drinking takes stamina. It takes dedication. In reality, it takes hard, hard work. Me, I don’t like hard work. I want to enjoy an adult beverage so I can relax, take it easy, enjoy life, and then go to sleep. I don’t want to have a cocktail just to make my life more difficult. But that is what day drinking entails: making life harder. You see, day drinking means you have to go the distance; you have to stay awake (when you don’t want to) and endure the blurriness and bad decisions. You have to do all of this hard, tired work hours upon hours after taking your first drink. And it’s that first drink which starts what I call the inner drunk countdown clock.

My body has a built in dead man’s switch activated by alcohol. Once that first taste of liquor hits my lips the countdown clock is set into motion. I have maybe three to four hours, and then I’m lights out, face down on a mattress (or a street gutter) snoring like a bear, a bear who drank way too much. Because of this inner dead man’s switch, after I have a few drinks I start thinking it is naptime. I want to stop the party, go to sleep, and avoid any embarrassing situations involving nudity, a camera, or worse, the government.

Sleeping is how my brain tells my body: “That is enough alcohol intake, go night-night and avoid jail.” Day drinking is in complete opposition to this program. I don’t prefer my partying to be a marathon effort, which is why it usually starts in the evenings. I just want to have a drink, laugh a bit, and then get home and fall asleep (okay, pass out). I want to do this safely in the comfort of my own bed. I don’t want this unconscious moment to happen in an alley, or worse, on the couch of a friend’s house in the middle of the day, especially if that friend and I went to high school together. High school friends are not your real friends, they are just people that know too much about you and like to embarrass you when you are at your most vulnerable.

Sure, everyone understands if you pass out at a party with your “friends,” chances are someone is going to draw nasty things on your face with a permanent marker. These sorts of shenanigans make it difficult to be gainfully employed the following day. We all know what it is like to “call in sick,” the day after a party (since nobody actually calls in “drunk and hung over”). Well, I have friends that have had to call in “sick” because they didn’t want to call in “phallus drawn on face.” God bless the Sharpie Corporation for ruining bathroom stalls and also the faces of drunken people for nearly half a century now.

Day drinking can put me in these sorts of precarious situations because starting to have cocktails before lunch means I will probably be passed out by 3 p.m. Three o’clock is not a socially acceptable time to be passed out, especially at work, or when my in-laws are coming over for a barbecue dinner, which I haven’t started cooking yet. My wife, whom I love, doesn’t have a sense of humor about me taking drunk naps right before company is about to arrive. In fact, the most frustrated she’s been with me has been when she is trying to wake me up in the middle of the day to try to get me to do stuff my drunk, tired ass doesn’t want to do. Stuff like getting out of bed, standing up, and being pleasant. Day drinking makes all of those things super hard.

Regardless of the known hazards of day drinking, it doesn’t mean I don’t still try it occasionally (with horrendous success each time, if anyone is keeping score). Recently, I attended a golf tournament, which by proxy required day drinking. Golf tournaments are just excuses for people to drink in the morning, curse at an inanimate little white ball, and operate small electric vehicles. Somehow this is considered OK as long as it is at a country club. If we saw people standing in a public park, drinking, screaming at a small ball, and then driving, they would be arrested and possibly committed to a mental institution for at least 72 hours of evaluation.

But since I was at an official golf course, this behavior was allowed and actually encouraged. I headed out onto the course, hoping not to lose too many golf balls, or worse, a golf club. Everything was going fine until the beer cart girl drove up and offered me and my team some “aim juice” which was not aim juice at all but Tequila. WARNING: Men, the beer cart girl will make all sorts of unrealistic claims regarding shots of Tequila improving your golf game. These are bold-faced lies! And the moment you purchase one beverage from the beer cart girl, the more she will drive up to the hole you are playing on and pour more drinks down your throat. By the 13th hole, my belly was filled with booze, my wallet was empty, and I was desperately looking for a place to take a nap. And not surprisingly, I had lost almost all of my golf balls because the “aim juice” wasn’t working as advertised.

Damn you day drinking. You win again.

Rob is currently asleep somewhere between the 14th and 15th hole. If you enjoy Rob’s storytelling then check out his novel Cadet Blues available on

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