By Craig P. Dixon, southcoast247.com correspondent Social Commentary 96
February 2, 2007
Used to be, the boys would meet at the bar. Toss down a few brews. Then head elsewhere for more drinks: A wolf pack of bachelors (more or less) pursuing the never elusive good buzz, the ever elusive wiling, attractive females,and, of course, camaraderie.
To hang out with us was to be amongst gods of inebriation. We were a bunch of low-rolling, fun-loving bastards, spending
about half our cumulative weekly pay on legendary boozefests followed by
early AM breakfasts at The Phoenix. Inseparable. Sure, there were one or two
amateurish drunken fights that brought awkward, indefinable walls between
some of us. But these were never serious and always cleared in a week or
two.
The high point of it all, the moment my association with the boys
climaxed, came with the extended crest of a hedonistic wave in Fort
Lauderdale, Florida. Oh, the debauchery was mythical, and we boys were very
close, nearly brothers.
But, Spring Break signaled the end. Afterward, we'd
meet at graduation parties and still do the bar thing, but something had
changed. The real world rose before us. Some embraced it, settled into "real
jobs", apartments, and moved into what many think of as the next stage of
life.
I, however, wanted nothing of a real job. The very idea of settling
into a cubicle and buzzing along in the beehive repulsed me. So, I dodged
that grand barrier and "regressed", so to speak, fleeing for Martha's
Vineyard. Taking jobs that provided nothing along the lines of growth,
stability or benefits. Doing the opposite of what family, friends, and
society considered "the thing to do". "Not living up to my potential."
Continuing the party. And having a hell of a great time doing it.
And now, here we are, a few years down the line. Everyone's doing different things.
Living out of town. Working different jobs. Getting serious. Having kids.
Settling down.
What occasions bring us together now?
Wakes, weddings, and funerals.
It's one of those rights of passage. When you're a kid, you're
closest to your family. With time, friends become family. And, if you're
lucky, you eventually have a family of your own. Life's changes bring new
priorities. Getting drunk and chasing tail with the boys on the weekends
suddenly takes less precedence.
After all, who has the excess cash to spend
on a weekend's debauches when there are bills to pay? Things to buy?
Ahh, we're all getting older. The realities of life saddled some of us long ago.
I've spat out the bit time and again, but can hold out only so much longer.
Someday, I'm going to have to settle into the proper societal mode.
Just not today.
Used to be, the boys would meet at the bar. Toss down a few brews. Then head elsewhere for more drinks: A wolf pack of bachelors (more or less) pursuing the never elusive good buzz, the ever elusive wiling, attractive females,and, of course, camaraderie.
