I’ve just returned from another weekend getaway to Denver, and once again I’m completely appalled by the use of alcohol there by putative adults. I’ve written about this here before, and last night’s exposure to pathological drinking was pretty epic. To wit:
- Waiting to check into our swank “boutique hotel,” Magnolia Hotel, the guest ahead of us commented that “I’m not drunk!. . . at least not yet.“
- We had a terrific supper at Euclid Hall, where we sat at the bar right in front of the kitchen and where one of the fun, young chefs slipped us a sample of the Pad Thai Pig Ears while we were waiting for our orders. After supper I went to the bathroom where at 8:20 p.m. I was treated to the sounds of someone puking up her beer. I repeat: it was 8:20 p.m.
- At 9:20 a.m., I got into an elevator in which I could smell that someone was still metabolizing alcohol from last night. Eeewww. Seriously? Can you just stay in your room until you sleep it off?
- May I just say that although there were young people around both the Magnolia Hotel (there was a Marine Corps wedding there yesterday) and Euclid Hall, these establishments are pretty solidly adult or even middle-aged hangouts. (That said, the hotel was very quiet and the wedding guests unobtrusive revelers. Semper Fi!)
All in one 16-hour span of time! The last time Fratguy and I had an overnight in Denver it was St. Patrick’s Day 2012. I figured that there would be some revelers, but it wasn’t just college-aged people or people still in their 20s or even their 30s. It was people our age and older, people who have been able to drink legally now for at least two decades, who still feel the need to seize every minor holiday to get their drunk on publicly. And I can’t remember the last time day or night I was on the free bus on the 16th Street Mall when I couldn’t smell drunks. The really offending public inebriates aren’t the homeless people–it’s middle-class locals and tourists.
I’m no Carrie Nation, friends. I thought that I had seen it all and was over being disappointed by adulthood. And yet, here I am. Is this just life in every big city after hours, or is it just our particular bovine metropolis? Have you seen anything like this in your city? Are people’s inner lives so empty and so spiritually and intellectually impoverished that they must make every weekend a drunken spree? Are they all depressed self-medicators? Is this what most people think of as an adult lifestyle? Who thinks puking in a restaurant bathroom is just part of a party lifestyle, and who do they think will clean up all of this vomit?
Maybe they should change the name of this town to Drunkver.