by Tyler Fransen

   If you know me, you know two things about me; I like beer and I can’t have too much of it.

   Coincidentally enough, as of writing this sentence I am currently sitting on my laptop at the bar with an ice-cold-name-brand-beer making countless spelling errors (thank god for spell check).

   My problem with beer is that I simply can’t enjoy it like some other people I know. In fact, one beer in and I’m more giggly than a stereotypical school girl. Two beers and I’m slurring my words, and after three beers I pose a danger to myself and humanity.

   Now I want to make it clear, I never drive drunk, I never call or text people when I’m drunk (or at least not that I remember) and I always keep my clothes on in public. That last one is just a personal choice.

   But the question is why am I such a lightweight when it comes to booze? I have the perfect beer belly, I love bar food and I like talking to the bartender. The bartender I’m sitting across from right now has a flannel shirt, a 1920’s mustache and gauges in his ear so you know he’s actually listening since he’s got extra holes in his ears.

   I love the experience of drinking; sitting at the bar after a long day of work and classes, talking with companions and singing the songs of Billy Joel and Journey in unison.

   Okay, so maybe I’m romanticizing my idea of the perfect night out, but you get the point. As lovely as it would be though to sing songs as a chorus of drunks, the reality of my alcohol consumption looks a lot more like this:

   First, I make sure there’s a reason why I’m drinking. It doesn’t have to be special, but there does need to be a reason. Family reunions, job promotion, stressful day at work, the game’s on, getting that girl’s number or not getting that girl’s number are all perfectly valid reasons for me to enjoy a beer (emphasis on ‘a’ beer).

   Secondly, when I’m drinking I’m either with friends or by myself, but usually with friends. It makes the experience better, sure, but it also gives my friends incentive to ask me for favors. They do this by saying, “Hey, remember that time you were drunk off two beers and we had to stop you from saying something stupid to the waitress?” That’s happened more than I’d like to admit.

   Next, I always make sure that if I’m drinking I either have water to go with it or food, usually both. My favorite bar food of all time is wings, but after a couple of beers my favorite bar food is yours.

    And lastly, when I’m drinking I make sure that I have ceased all communication for the evening. The last thing I need is a call from my mother saying, “How much did you drink last night? I got this weird text from you that just said ‘I loooooooooooove Jahn Elwaaaaay’ and I got concerned.”

   Now, by following these rules, does it make me the perfect drunk? No. On two completely separate occasions, when I consumed way way more than my three beer limit, I asked my sober friend, “Am I drunk?” That’s right, I had to verify if I was drunk, and my friend simply said “Yes, yes you are.”

   But so what if I can’t consume beer like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, it saves me money by not having to buy as much, and I can actually enjoy a buzz without going crazy.

   My fellow lightweights, let this be a message of hope to you. We may not be able to play drinking games on debate night, we may not be the poster child for a wild night out and we’re certainly not breaking any Guinness records any time soon (ha, Guinness, get it?); but we do have one thing that we always fall back on that our more liquor tolerant friends do not have.

   We have more money for beer later. Carry on my light as a feather drunkards, and remember, don’t drink and drive and always drink responsibly.