Dear Drunk Students From Last Night:
I hope your hangover is not too bad. Perhaps you are still mad at me, but I’m betting you forgot our entire interaction.
I’m sorry I had to be the bad guy.
My volunteer job at the concert’s beer garden required me to enforce just three rules:
- Must have a pink wristband to enter.
- No beer outside of the beer garden.
- No passing beer over the beer-garden barrier.
I stopped one of you from violating No. 2 and had this exchange:
Me: Sorry, you can’t leave this area with those [gesturing to his two cups of beer].
Him: Am I supposed to chug them?
Me: I’m not recommending that, but you can.
Him: But I want to go hear the music.
Me: Great! You can do that right here.
Another one of you tried to be slick by putting the cup close to your body and walking out while turned away from me.
Listen, girl: I was young once too. I know ALL the tricks.
Rule No. 3 was — by far — the one that caused you the most dismay.
To be fair, the setup wasn’t great. There should have been a fence for the fence.
But policing that line with you was rough.
Beer makes some of you very bad-tempered. I almost had to call security. (That would have meant breaking up the officers’ coffee klatch though.)
Luckily, only a handful of you acted the fool. Most of you were well behaved.
Also, I was thrilled that the beer ran out quickly, and I was relieved of my duties.
Y’all seemed to have a great time overall and enjoyed the concert. That’s good.
I did NOT have the greatest time, but that’s ok. I performed a necessary service by reducing liability.
Take some Tylenol. Drink water. Eat a bagel. You’ll be fine.
Maybe I’ll see you next year!
Beth
*Billy Currington, who had his own substance issues.