My PseudoAunt Jillian's family has convened to celebrate the birthday of Tim, her youngest brother. It's turned into a week-long party. The only downside is that no one is passing any booze in my direction. I'm living vicariously through other tipsy people. We're close enough to everything at our hotel that no one needs to drive. I can drive legally, but no one is asking me to drive because everyone but my Uncle Scott has rental cars, which don't allow drivers my age to operate them. My Uncle Scott just says that he likes his car the way it is, without any major dents or deployed airbags. What a buzzkill!
PseudoAunt herself hasn't consumed alcohol becasue she's recovering from a renal calculus procedure. She doesn't drink that much anyway. She went to BYU, and probably gave up the habit of drinking while she ws there. Demerol and Vicodin trump booze any day, apparently. One of PseudoAunt's sisters-in-law is every bit as sober as I am because she's pregnant. She's taking every opportunity to poke fun at the drunks, which is pretty funny, because when she's not pregnant, she's the single largest consumer of alcohol in the entire group. She thinks it doesn't count because she only drinks fine wine. Drunk is drunk, I told her. At least she can stop when she's preggers. She thinks that is proof positive that she doesn't have a problem with alcohol. I say the verdict is not yet in on that one.
I derive a great deal of pleasure from watching people who are under the influence of mood-altering substances. People I ordinarily would barely tolerate are hysterical when they get a little moonshine in their systems. I'm not naming names here.