Morning booze

Coming to school early, I dropped by the campus sports bar just after 7 for breakfast. Already some drinkers were in gear: a guy at the bar with a pitcher of beer, who could've been yours truly 25 years ago; a table of guys in hospital blues, presumably celebrating after the midnight shift and not juicing up before work; scattered solo drinkers with Bloody Marys or beer. And another half of the customers with coffee, many there for breakfast like me.

I liked morning drinking in my wild days, though my schedule didn't often permit it. But sometimes morning drinking was perfect for me. When I was living on a grant, for example, I might write from 4 to 7 or 8 in the morning, then call it a day and hit a bar. Or I might have just turned in a project at deadline and have a few weeks before my next gig.

I liked morning drinking mainly because of the people you met. Their stories were more interesting to me. There were no "social drinkers" around at 7 in the morning! The drinking was serious, addictive, escapist, and many other things, but the drinkers more often than not had fascinating stories to share. Interestingly enough, you also found fewer out-of-control drunks in the morning than at night. These were pros. They handled booze better than the amateurs or weekend bar-warriors. When it was time to pass out, most of them left to do it at home. Bartenders also knew them well and knew when to cut whom off.

It also was fascinating to see the "respectable folks" who slid into a bar at 7 to have a few quick belts. At Kelly's, a downtown bar that opened at 7, you always saw judges, government workers, politicians, the people who got their photos in the paper, having a shot or two before work. On any morning they'd be two or three faces at the bar you recognized. Secret lives.

At The Gypsy, in my neighborhood of NW Portland, a typical 7:30 a.m. found no vacant seats along the bar and a full lineup behind, several dozen regulars there for opening time. It was always a party at 7 at The Gypsy. All this changed later when California property managers bought up all the apartments in the neighborhood and doubled rents, driving out everyone on a fixed income, as most of the regulars were. Retired folks, disability checks, lots of vets (most from the Vietnam era) -- this was the clientele.

My schedule didn't often permit morning drinking but when I could kiss off the day, it was my favorite time to party. No amateur drinkers to be found.