Wednesday, January 20, 1999
Alcohol laws encourage reckless behavior
DRINKING: Age restrictions not effective, cause youth to act
more irresponsibly
Confidence, confidence – I need to be confident. I just need to
hand him the license and smile pretty. It’ll work; I’ll just tell
him that the reason my hands are shaking is because it’s cold
out.
Alright, what’s my name again … oh yeah, Laura Ann Johnson.
OK, and I am 5 feet 8 inches tall (yeah, with 6-inch heels on). And
I am a brunette with blue eyes. (Alright Catie, as painful as it
is, you will have to set aside your redhead pride and, gulp, tell
him that, oh this really hurts – you are not a real redhead.)
Alright, now when is my birthday? October 4, 1970? That makes me
28 years old. (Oh sure, I know a lot of 28-year-olds who like to
hang out at Westwood bars with a bunch of 21-year-olds.)
This really sucks. The bouncer is going to look at this ID and
laugh in my face. And then, in front of all of my peers, (who were
lucky enough to have been born a puny six months before me), I will
be told to skip my way back to grandma’s house where a titillating
game of Gin Rummy awaits me. This is just ridiculous, as if alcohol
hasn’t been readily available to me since I was 14 years old. I’m
pretty sure I wasn’t the only high school freshman in the bushes
chugging warm Mickey’s 40s before gracing the homecoming dance with
my presence.
"No Ms. White, I haven’t been drinking. MC Hammer just really
raises me to a higher state of consciousness. I can’t help it, the
groove is in my soul, and I just shouldn’t be held responsible for
running into that window. What’s that? I’m drooling on you? Oh, I’m
sorry. Well, uh, I’ve got to go somewhere else now."
I know, I know, Mom; there is nothing funny about binge
drinking. But whether we like it or not, it’s a reality of growing
up in this society. In fact, I think I had a higher tolerance for
alcohol when I was 16 years old than I do now. And I hope I am not
coming off as a complete lush, because in all honesty, I only get
drunk about once every blue moon, I swear.
But seriously, I believe teenagers in this society are being
taught to associate going to parties and drinking alcohol with
getting trashed, obliterated, hammered, sauced or whatever other
delightful euphemism you’d like to use.
I am sure you’ve heard this argument before, but please allow me
to induce you to consider it again. Illegal or not, alcohol is
accessible to kids. And unless you are looking to live in a society
where we all have bar codes tattooed onto our foreheads at birth,
kids will continue to defy such inane, flimsy restrictions. So what
does an age restriction really do – other than lend a sort of
rebellious, super-cool, minor-without-a-cause mystique to the whole
act of underage inebriation?
If a group of kids is willing to sit outside a 7-Eleven for an
hour until someone gets up the courage to tap a homeless man on the
shoulder (who has just spent the past 60 minutes screaming
obscenities at his pet shoe) to ask him to buy them a case of beer,
odds are those kids are going to make it worth their while.
And if that same group of kids is willing to embark on a
15-minute trek through groves of poison oak to reach the recesses
of the beer-can littered watering hole, which has served as a safe
haven for hooch-happy high schoolers for the past two decades, odds
are that group of kids is going to enjoy that case of beer to the
fullest.
I believe, because it was within this whole ambiance that I was
introduced to Mr. Firewater, that it took me about four years to
realize that just because I was having a drink, it didn’t mean that
I necessarily had to get drunk.
Yeah, yeah, this seems very elementary, I know, but just check
out your local fraternity soiree. If you are able to make your way
through the droves of scantily clad freshman, you will likely
notice that there are more than a few people who still haven’t
quite figured this out.
Oh, calm down you Grecians, I know that people get wasted at
apartment parties and bars too. Trust me, there is nothing scarier
than a room full of drunken theater students.
Now don’t get dramatic you thespians, because I mean this in the
most loving way. It’s just that for any of us non-actors, who may
have happened upon one of your little shindigs, it would take
nothing short of lighting our own faces on fire to get any
attention in that room.
So the point is, Greek or not, we’re all in the same boat. Even
I have been known to do a little cruising amongst those scenes
myself, dressed in halter-top and all.
So anyhow, now comes the time to ask ourselves whether the legal
age restriction concerning alcohol consumption has really served to
deter underage drinking in this country.
Yeah, sure, at times it has probably made alcohol a little
harder for teens to acquire. But, it is important to consider
whether that occasional delay has done anything more than merely
convince kids that they should enjoy their bounty to the absolute
fullest, those times when they are successful in attaining it.
Then please ponder whether America’s youth would be so committed
to accomplishing the ultimate hangover if they had grown up in a
culture where alcohol had always been obtainable. How many kids
would find joy in chugging flat beer behind a dumpster if, from the
age of 12, those kids had the choice to enjoy a nice glass of
Merlot with their parents during dinner?
In fact, think forward to your own parenthood. Would you rather
your kids be introduced to the world of alcohol consumption in your
own dining room, or in some dimly lit parking lot behind the local
pawnshop? It is vital that kids be taught that alcohol consumption
goes hand in hand with responsibility, rather than with reckless
lawlessness.
Alcohol abuse is quite a double-edged sword if I do say so
myself. Since alcohol’s inception, inebriation has served to
enhance many people’s social experiences, but at the same time
alcohol has also been responsible for destroying the lives of
countless individuals.
There really is no easy answer. Once a long time ago some really
short-sighted people were convinced they had uncovered one, but I
don’t think I need to elaborate on the social repercussions that
Prohibition wreaked upon our communities.
Nonetheless, we can also be sure that the way our society is
currently handling alcohol use has not proved to be a highly
effective means for eradicating alcohol abuse.
Binge drinking has become inextricably bound to the identity,
social hierarchy and extracurricular lives of America’s youth. It
is time to admit that flimsy regulations, based on nothing more
than the day you were born, cannot properly or fully address the
issue of alcohol use among our youth.
Establishing such a superficial control does little more than
perpetuate contradiction, encourage defiance, ignore
irresponsibility, glamorize excess, and maybe even induce a massive
state of neuroses.
So, as usual, I don’t have an answer, just a question. It is an
important one, but I don’t presume to have the sobriety to answer
this age-old dilemma. Besides I don’t have the time right now,
because I’ve got to find my pseudo-sorority girl black suction
pants. I heard that Westwood is going off tonight. It’s about time
for me to get my boogie on.
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