Why I don’t drink, part nine
When you spend time on the road, inevitably someone will say “C’mon, have a beer, no big deal, man up!”
When you wake up the first time in your local drunk tank, it’s a little shocking, but after eight, ten times, it’s a friendly spot. Well, as friendly as eight 100 watt fluorescent bulbs can be to an everclear hangover.
It’s the waking up in a strange drunk tank, 1900 miles from home, 1900 miles from the nearest bail money, that convinces you that drinking is not always a good idea.

Ayup.
That’s all.
Not to mention the mystery bruises.
Years ago I decided that I would only drink with people I trust.
Basically this means that I NEVER drink in public places, but only in my home or the home of somebody I trust. (And who will allow me to stay until…)