I know, it’s Monday,
not last Friday, which was when my 28 day break was supposed to end, but I just
thought I’d stretch it out a few more days. Also, I was really, really tired on
Friday because we went shopping at Costco and after that all I could do all
weekend was nap, watch The Wire, and eat from an industrial size box of
Cheez-its.
I
thought it would be pleasing to end the 28 days series with a post on one of my
favorite ways to end the days since I’ve moved to Michigan: Happy Hour. Happy
Hour is a new concept to me because in North Carolina, where I’ve spend all of
my adult life so far, happy hour is illegal. North Carolina isn’t big on drinking.
You can’t buy alcohol before 12pm on Sundays (So if you want to sneak a Bloody
Mary into church, make sure to plan ahead and buy on Saturday). And in general,
if you want to buy booze you have to do so from an ABC store, which is a government
controlled store that only sells alcohol. The ABC stores have always confused
me because not only does their name sound a lot like a toy store, but they are
also always painted the exact same way in bright red lettering with large red
columns and glass blocks, giving them the appearance of a fast food restaurant catered
towards children. But I digress. North Carolina
doesn’t have Happy Hour because they think it encourages binge drinking, so
when I moved here I was really excited at this novel concept. Restaurants serving
cheap fancy drinks? Half-priced appetizers? Outdoor dining? And it all happens
at 5pm so I can have drinks, then eat an entire meal, and go to bed by ten pm? Everything
about this concept appeals to me.
 |
| Pensively enjoying half priced wine at Sava's. |
 |
| Parmesan polenta fries: Not half price. Gazing across the table at Matt's "That Guy" T-shirt in a fancy restaurant: priceless. |
But
I think there’s something more about Happy Hour that appeals to me than just
the concept of cheap fruity drinks and endless guacamole. Happy Hour first
started in the Navy in the early 1900s when it was the hour on the ship when
everyone was allowed to have free time, which they usually spent boxing each
others' ears (I imagine), and later during Prohibition it became the hour
before dinner that people snuck into their favorite speakeasy and had some
secret drinks with friends. In any context, Happy Hour signifies that the day
is done. If you are ready to have some drinks at 5pm, it means you’ve completed
everything you need to do. It’s like a delicious fruity period on the day. Happy
Hour is a reward for being a person all day: going to the gym, writing, working
in the lab, doing all the dishes. And you don’t do Happy Hour alone, you share
it with friends who have also finished being people for the day. I think North
Carolina is missing the point of Happy Hour. It’s not an excuse to binge drink
in the middle of the day, it’s a celebration, a congratulatory hour for
everyone at the same time. The concept of letting yourself take a breather and
celebrate the work you’ve done at the end of something hard is something I’m
very familiar with now. Happy Hour is important, whatever your Happy Hour is:
spending an hour with your boyfriend drinking wine and eating polenta fries or spending
28 days doing things you love. It recharges us, congratulates us for the work
we’ve done. Then we pick up again and start something new.
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