15 Minutes with Kevin in Evanston
Kevin was on his own. His endgame, I had figured out, was just to let his rage unfurl until the booze wore off. At which point, assuming he avoided arrest, he’d walk home. I figured this because I had been there before. And truth be told, I was having a bit of a bad day, too. Nothing specific. Just a general sense of annoyance with being awake. It happens. It’s one of the reasons we drink beer in bars and put up with bar trivia hosts.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 11, 2020
Most of the drunks I’ve come to know are really fun and funny people. I miss carousing with and observing with their kind. It’s not COVID’s fault—it’s the fault of age, responsibility, and domestication. The silver lining is that my two-year-old son often acts and talks like a drunkard, which quenches my thirst for being among fun lunatics with bad habits.
Some people just can’t be helped. They can’t help choosing to play the martyr, the victim. It’s fine to eventually let these people drown in the rough sea of their own making. The trick is saving the poor souls they might bring down with them.