This town has a drinking problem.
Now, Lord knows, I'm not one to judge. Some days it can take a whole box of wine just to dull the pain of living here.
But I saw something yesterday that leads me to believe it may be a little out of control.
At first I thought it was just a neighborhood thing. There's Jim, of course, with a cocktail perpetually glued to his hand. He's evolved to the point where he can accomplish all of the yard work and most of his day to day tasks one-handed, never setting the glass down. And I'd see things around the neighborhood when I walked the dogs, the empty Makers Mark bottles stuck in random bushes, the lawn scattered with empty airline size vodka bottles. "Kids!" I thought. "It's the damn kids." But who can really blame them; there's nothing for them to do here but raid mom and dad's well stocked liquor cabinet and go for a joyride.
But it didn't take long to realize the problem was more widespread. Watch the local news and you'll realize that most of the mayhem has an alcoholic component. In just the past year, an alarming number of people have been mowed down in crosswalks by drunk drivers. If you ever find yourself in Bako, and dear God let's hope that never happens, remember to never cross a street after dark.
There's also the local chain of gas station/convenience stores, Fastrip, which, in addition to a slurpee machine, have a fully stocked liquor store behind the counter...
"Give me $20 on #4 and a gallon of Smirnoff..."
And then there was the woman I first worked for who seemed to be out on the town almost every single night. Trawling the limited bar scene with her roving pack of cougar friends until last call. She'd roll in around 11am, if she showed up at all, never removing her oversized Jackie O sunglasses. Most mornings she was too hungover to drive her kids to Christian school.
And then yesterday I went to the bank to deposit the rarest of things... a paycheck.
Really, they're like unicorns.
I was walking up to the ATM at roughly the same moment as a kindly looking nurse. She was short and squat and sporting a neatly coiffed Bakerdoo. Judging by the childlike print on her smock I figured she must work in pediatrics. I graciously allowed her to go first, even though technically, I was first. She smiled warmly and thanked me and as she approached the machine she reached in her purse. I assumed it was to retrieve her wallet, but instead, out came an empty bottle of VO.
A big bottle.
Like a liter.
Without even looking, she smoothly and effortlessly tossed it into the nearby trashcan. It's almost as if she had done this before. Many times, I'm guessing. Now, as I said at the top, I'm not one to judge. There could be any number of reason why a nurse would be carrying around a liter of booze. Maybe to sterilize a wound? Having to give an emergency injection? Lots of reasons. Although I think the most likely one was that it was "lunch".
She withdrew some funds, no doubt for a stop at the liquor store on her way back to care for kids. And off she went. She gave me a wink and a sly smile as she passed.
I get it lady. I live here too.
The whole episode reminded me of the quiet desperation of living here.
It reminded me of the fragile nature of the heart and soul.
And it also reminded me why we still drive to LA for medical care.
