Airplanes and Drinks

I have been absent.  For a month to the day.  I’d like to say that I’ve been off doing wonderful things and being fascinating, but that would be a stretch of the truth.  I have had some experiences that got me thinking, judging, and thinking about judging.

During my hiatus, I had an airplane trip which included a layover in the early morning.  As I sat in a sports bar-turned-half-breakfast-joint having toast and diet coke, the question occurred to me:  what kind of people drink hard liquor at eight in the morning?  Evidently, quite a few on this particular day.

A ten dollar pint well before noon? Sure!  A low ball of Jack with eggs?  Why not?  Tequila with a breakfast burrito?  Absolutely.  Is this how people live or is all common sense and perception of propriety suspended when one steps into an airport? 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m the first to have a noontime margarita by the pool on a mid-June Saturday or a brunch mimosa on any given Sunday, but hard liquor at eight in the morning seems excessive.

Perhaps the contention of travel must be assuaged by spirits? That might have been the case for Midge –who sat next to me berating her husband loudly.  Annoyance hovered between them just above the carry-on emblazoned with her name.  I don’t know where they were going, but I learned that they just arrived into the airport; they had not been traveling internationally in some irritated fashion, but they were clearly tense.  I wondered if alcohol would be a part of the solution to their tension.  Even if it wasn’t, the combination of breakfast drinks and anger had all the makings of a long day for them.

A couple at the bar were three beers and one shot in each – before nine.  Perhaps they were on the way to a reunion?  A funeral? Or some other highly-charged event so this early morning pub stop helps them escape themselves, the impending crush of family, and the resurrection of childhood’s injustices and favoritisms?

Lest you think I’m sitting in self-righteous judgement, I was reminded of Shannon, Ireland where I arrived at what was – to me – cocktail & snack time, but what was locally known as breakfast time.  I had a pint and a sausage with friends.   No self-recriminations at all.  I might have had a second pint.  Perhaps there was a 47 year-old Irish woman watching our group and wondering much the same that I was wondering last week.

But, that day I was in Charlotte.  Midge and husband have come past security to wait for a delayed flight.  Same for the bar couple. (Yes, I was eavesdropping.)  There were no international semi-rational-time-change-jet-lag excuses.  Do these people go by bars on their ways to work?  Do they take a shot after dropping off the kids at school?  After morning Zumba? 

I want to write “I’m not judging,” but the fact of the matter is I was judging.  Taking a step back, I realize that I don’t care when or what people drink.  Just because I did not deem morning drinking appropriate for myself that morning, does not mean it is wrong.  Extend that into the world, and I think we all might be able to learn a lesson:  just because something isn’t for you, doesn’t make it capital W wrong. 

College major?  Whatever excites you.  Religious beliefs?  Personal choice.  Political inclinations?  Think for yourself.  Children or no?  It’s up to you.  A drink in the morning at the Charlotte airport?  Your call. 

I’d like to think I was judging the effect of travel, airport bars, and freedom, but that’s not the truth.  I was judging the people and their motivations.  It doesn't matter where you are or what you are doing, the personal choices that you make are just that – personal.  After all, once you take off your shoes and get felt up by security, the world truly is your oyster (shooter). 

I think I need to take Rumi’s travel suggestion to heart:  “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field, I will meet you there.”  Won’t you join me?

Cheers.