My 11 year old just saw the graphic, pathetic reality of alcohol
There was a time in my life when I would have considered the idea of going to a concert without getting drunk to be laughable at best, totally insane at worst.
I mean, imagine me of all people — a massive introvert — singing or dancing.
AND IN PUBLIC?!
Yet there I was last week doing just that.
My 11-year-old son’s favorite band was rolling through town and he wanted to see his first rock show, so off we went.
The evening was amazing, just great fun.
I know everyone probably says this about their own kid, but my son is truly one of the kindest, most genuine, most grateful people I’ve ever met.
And as I always tell him, good things happen to good people.
I’d bought seats in the nosebleeds but, through various twinkles of serendipity (too long a story for right now), we wound up getting upgraded to the low 100 level for free.
The band was awesome. The vibe was awesome.
Yes, everything was perfect.
Except…
Enter the drunks
In the row ahead of me, there was a group of five people in their (I would guess) late 40s who’d clearly been pre-drinking for this show — a lot.
Which is fine I guess.
Look, I was at least kind of drunk almost every night for like 15 years, so I’m not speaking from a high-and-mighty pedestal or anything.
But I’d seen this movie many times before, and I could tell things were headed off the rails.
The opening act was on for about 70–80 minutes or so and everyone in the next row — the two couples and the straggler — was having a good time.
Within the first few songs by the main attraction, however, one of the dudes went down.
All of a sudden he was sitting in his chair and sweating profusely.
That “sick from drinking” stomach was clearly taking him over. I wondered if he’d smoked some weed, too, which is always a bad mix.
“PLEASE don’t let this guy puke right here,” I thought to myself.
My son looked at this scene, then looked up at me with concern.
“Is that guy ok?” he asked.
Really drunk adults
Now listen, my son is no stranger to seeing drunk grown-ups.
He plays the highest level of competitive sports and travel tournaments are often a mess for the parents.
But this was the first time he’d seen someone sick-drunk.
“That’s what happens when you drink a lot of alcohol buddy,” I said in his ear, loud enough to be above the music but low enough that the group of drunks couldn’t hear me.
“It’s extremely not worth it.”
I refocused him on the band on stage and he was back to having fun within a few moments.
The other group, however?
You pay all this money for what?
To sit there at almost 50 years old trying not to vomit while your girlfriend or wife is forced to miss several songs to go buy a bunch of $6 waters to put down your shirt to try and cool you down while rubbing your back?
What a great time. What a catch.
The better way
As for me?
I didn’t have a drop of booze, and I can remember every part of the night in crystal clear detail — including the drunk chumps, unfortunately.
Had I been drinking before, during, and after the show, everything would have been a messy blur of muddled images and interactions.
I also almost certainly would have acted like a goof in front of my 11-year-old, too.
Instead, I actually felt something real.
I loved the music, I let it take me over. I got a little bit better at letting go of my self-consciousness, which is no small feat for me but something I’m trying to get better at.
And I had an otherwise wonderful, clear-eyed evening with my boy that I’ll never forget.
And that is truly priceless.
Have you been to concerts before and after being addicted to alcohol?
How did you feel about the experience?
Let me know in the comments!
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