I am so over this not drinking in the 2ww bullshit.
Last weekend I was in Alabama for a music festival. Unfortunately my “career” (I use the word advisedly) is such that the festivals I’m invited to tend to take place in very small towns. This creates a problem for us musician types, who require both strong coffee and strong liquor. Actually the problem really is food–most of us are ravenous after we play, and it’s sometimes really hard to find a place that will serve us after our concerts. We always end up in bars, which is fine, but sometimes it’s hard to find a bar that will serve us any food at all. When that happens we end up scarfing down stale pretzels in our motel room. Not very satisfying.
So there we were, Friday night, 15 or so starving musicians looking for some food at 10:30 p.m. The first place we tried was cash-only (did I mention we’re all broke too?) and served only…get this…deep-fried pickles. I wish I was kidding.
The second place we tried had already closed their kitchen, but when they saw how many of us there were they agreed to open it back up. Hurray!
It was a little surprising to all of us, being yuppified snobs and all, that it’s still legal to smoke in bars in Alabama. It had been a long time since any of us had been in a smoke-filled room, and that took some getting used to! We were all coughing by the time we got out of there. Makes me wonder what we all breathed in back in the good ol’ days when you could smoke in bars in my home city!
Also, the band that was playing at this bar* was very good (sort of rock-country), but their sound was turned up just a little too high. Conversation was impossible, and so we insufferable snobs kept shouting back and forth at each other about how these guys should move it down by about 5dB. After a while I started to wonder why everyone but me seemed to be having a good time despite the smoke, the too-loud amp, the terrible service, and the strangely sticky floor.
Then it hit me.
Everybody but me was drinking. I was just short of CD1 and had that irrational hope thing going on–you know the one. The one that’s not even any fun and is actually more like an extra scoop of guilt.
“What if this is The Month?”
“You can’t be too careful.”
“Do you want to RUIN YOUR BABY’S LIFE by having a gin and tonic in the Loudest Bar in Alabama?”
So I did the right thing.
I guess that proves that I have not in fact ceased to believe that I’m capable of pregnancy as I stated in a previous post. Hope is a funny, fucked-up thing.
*And where, exactly, were they going to eat when their set was finished? That’s what I’d like to know! We should have stuck around and followed them…