Drunks on Rampage Balk at Investigation

The drunks are at it again.  It's Sunday night - why wouldn't they be knocking back a few drinks in colored tumblers?  It's 6PM - I'd say they're probably trying to squeeze the last little bit of fun out of the weekend before heading back to work on Monday but they don't seem to have to head anywhere very often.  I never liked work - it got in the way of my drinking.  One of the couples has a little boy about 5 or 6; the other one has a teen-aged daughter.  I wonder where the kids are when this is going on?  They're not usually outside.  That would be a hindrance to the parent's drinking and an embarrassment for the kids.  And we think that we aren't affecting anyone else when we're drinking.

 Drunks like to "party."  When a drunk is "partying" all manners of behavior is allowed.  If I'm "partying" I can turn up my music as loud as I want; I can scream and yell at the top of my lungs; I can make as much noise as I want because I'm having fun.  If this bothers someone, tough shit - you need to relax and have some fun.  I was always so surprised when someone yelled at me for blasting AC/DC at 2 AM.  I felt bad that I made someone mad.  I didn't do it on purpose - I simply didn't give a shit that it bothered them.  I didn't think about them.  I didn't have a frame of reference for someone trying to live an adult life.

The drunks live 10 houses from the beach, from the ocean, but I've never seen them go down there.  I don't see them go anywhere.  I'm hip to the reasoning - when I was at home drinking I had easy access to the bathroom and to cheap alcohol and I didn't risk the dreaded DUI.  After I got sober I went back to places I had lived for a few years when I was still drinking and was stunned to see parks and shopping centers and restaurants right around the corner.  I left work, stopped at a constantly rotating group of liquor stores and mini-marts and pony kegs and corner markets to buy alcohol - I didn't want anyone to figure out I was a regular - and then right home to plop on the couch and pound some brewskys.

What a great life.