37: A Town With No Beer

The disappointment is tangible.

The frustration hangs there in the air like an over ripe pear not quite fallen from its tree.

It's like the building anticipation of sex after not seeing your girlfriend for a month, waiting throughout the day for her to arrive and then hearing that she's not in the mood.

After pedaling more than seventy miles through the South Carolina heat, I arrived in Southpoint last Sunday afternoon, tired and sweaty, hungry and thirsty, to find that it resided in a partial dry county. Nothing alcoholic could be sold, served, given away or in any way dispensed, on the Lord's Day.

Suddenly, all I wanted was a cold beer. Not being able, the desire intensified until I could think of nothing except a chilled glass, frothing over as the bartender filled it.

“Where's the county line?” I asked the check in clerk, almost in desperation. Maybe it was simply over the bridge and slightly out of sight. Another five minutes' worth of pedaling.

No.

“That's what most people say,” she said with the cheeriness of one who didn't care. “Right after they stare at me for ten seconds and then wanna know if I'm joking. It's thirty miles south on the interstate. Staying or going?”

Thirty miles. By bike, tired and aching? No way.

Perhaps this explains why all the motels were cheap. The standard, familiar names were all there – Knights Inn, Days Inn and the like - surrounded by a host of others and many sported signs promising rates of $30. Probably those prices doubled or tripled on any other day.

The inability to sell booze extended into restaurants being closed altogether. “They don't do so well on Sundays," the cheery desk clerk said, "So most of 'em are shut. The ones that are open become family places and you find a lot of kids. Folks around here who like a drink go to the liquor store on a Saturday and then stay home with the TV on Sunday nights. The Lord's Day gets us all somehow.”

Who is this Lord, I wanted to demand, who said that you shouldn't drink on Sunday? Does it say that in the bible? What about other religious faiths? Maybe they don't see it the same way. Why should the city elders, or whoever they were - probably upright Christian souls - determine that everyone else should follow their religious imposition? After living in places where no such restriction existed, losing this simple ability away without warning was like regressing to childhood and having my bedtime cut by an hour.

There was no point arguing with the friendly desk clerk so, with an inaccurate grunt of, "Heathen town," I accepted the key and went to clean up. A steak was just so much meat without a nice glass of wine. Burger without the beer was only fat-loaded ground beef. It's sad, I suppose, that the absence of a bottle changed things so much.

Ruby Tuesday's was open but the bar itself remained in darkness. I sat in a booth and ordered a salad, self-righteously pretending that this enforced period of dryness was healthy. It was, of course, but just because something's good for your doesn't mean you enjoy being forced.

In a way, it was funny, I'd been dry all week for one reason or another and now, when I intended to reward myself with a glass or two of wine and a nice meal, the realities of a small town in the the bible belt had hit me.

So, fresh and entirely hangover-free, I left Southpoint earlier than intended and headed to Wilmington. Perhaps, if I'd had a drink or two the night before, I'd have left later. I'd certainly have traveled at a different rate and would've encountered the railroad crossing at a different time; a time either before the rain began or well into the storm, which means that it would've been either dry or I'd have been more careful and focused more attention on the road. With than enhanced attentiveness, I may not have skidded, lost the bike from under me and smashed my wrist and head into the ground.

The injury, although not serious and certainly not life-threatening, forced a three-day rest period, which included, due to boredom, three evenings visiting local pubs and restaurants. Southpoint's enforced Lord's Day abstinence led directly to pain and enhanced consumption.

Where's the sense in that?

Sobriety hurts.