Black Wednesday arrives. Four children in tow: three for drinking, the 20-year-old for driving. I'd drive myself, but the law frowns on that recreational pastime.
I once walked home after Black Wednesday. The wife was pretty irritated: walking down frozen US 12 at 11:00 PM (I'd arrived at the bar at 2:30 PM), on the biggest drinking night of the year, down a hill and up a hill . . . with four little kids at home (I was still working my way up to seven).
She was even more annoyed when a bunch of us rode home with my hardest-drinking friend after Black Wednesday. We piled into his old Buick, laughing that this wasn't a good idea. My Dad started to crack a joke as we pulled onto US 12. I interrupted him, "Tell it quick. We only got 20 seconds to live."
Such is the lore of Black Wednesday. That rural drinking hub on US 12 closed (it got COVID), so now we go to a downtown drinking hub on US 12. Marie doesn't much care if I walk home from there and prefers it, as do I. Few things are finer than a gently sobering walk in the cold.
Notwithstanding my occasional excess this evening, I continue my long-standing feud with the decadents. It's "Black Wednesday" because it's a play on "Black Friday." It's when bars make a lot of money (get into the "black"), just like Black Friday is when retailers get into the "black."
It's not a shortened version of "black-out Wednesday." That's for reprobates and college co-eds (note the heavy Venn). And how do I know it's "Black Wednesday" and not "Black-out Wednesday"? Simple: If it weren't for "Black Friday," no one would've thought to call this evening "Black Wednesday." The term "Black Friday" begot the term "Black Wednesday," so Black Wednesday is rooted in profits, just like it's Frigga motha.
Of course, it doesn't matter much. I like seeing everyone out and having fun. A Nielsen study found that 20% of all adults go to a restaurant or bar tonight. Within my family, that figure approaches 100%, no exaggeration. My kids, brothers, nieces, nephews, and wives all show up.
The maligned millennials, in particular, do it right tonight. They make up nearly 30% of the crowds. Within my family, that figure approaches 75%. If it weren't for my brothers attending, I'd be the oldest one in our reserved room. Sobering thought, that. I'll have to suppress it with extra gin tonight.
Enjoy your start to the holidays.
