I have finally been proven wrong. I know it’s amazing, but it’s only the first time. Just as if that was the first time Alec Baldwin went into a piggy giggy. After being told many times that the newspaper only prints bad news and defending my career path at family gatherings, I have come to the realization that they must be right.
There was sad news splashed across the front of Monday’s newspaper this past week. Here I was half asleep clutching an Enviga, shuffling into work early like all good cubicle cattle. I picked up my copy to keep with my daily ritual of looking to see if I know anyone who died or was arrested over the weekend. Then I read my horoscope to find out if there are one or three margaritas in my future.
Hey, don’t laugh, the day before Prince William broke up with his gal pal, Holiday Mathis told me I will find my prince charming. True story.
But there it was glaring in my face with the headline: “Bars face early close”
What!?! I stopped in mid-sip of my energy drink. How could they do this to me? I felt more hurt than Baldwin’s 11, oh, I mean 12-year-old daughter.
As I skimmed through the article I thought I was still dreaming, until my editor walked in instead of Jeremy Priven. Then I knew it was a nightmare.
Apparently closing the bars earlier in the LA will mean a drastic drop in violence. I can honestly say that I have been to a few of Lowell’s finest watering holes till last call. OK, who am I kidding, I have been to ALL of Lowell’s finest watering holes in the past four years and 10 months since turning legal and I have never felt the urge to pick up a chair outside Caffé Paradiso and throw it at someone.
So the city’s theory is to close the Old Court and other places at 1 a.m. instead of 2 a.m. It really doesn’t make much sense. Now instead of going out at 10 p.m. we’ll go out at 9 p.m. And do they really think that 60 minutes makes a difference? We all know that when closing time is looming we start drinking faster and ordering more tequila shots. Or is that just me?
What does the city expect us to do with that extra hour before bedtime? And when I mean us, I mean the people who spend the most money in restaurants and bars. Have any of these pro-prohibition politicians been to a 20-something’s apartment? The fridge has some Heinz that is looking a bit crusty, half empty bottles of Vitamin Water (why people keep drinks in the fridge with just a swill left beats me) and maybe, if they’re lucky, a few Mama Celeste pizzas in the freezer. That being said, we spill out onto the streets of DTL like ravenous pigs, (that’s the last Baldwin reference for today) looking for food.
So now that the city tore down Barney’s to build a garage near a vacant row of blocks, we have been forced to resort to the Club Diner or a drive-thru window. If they were smart, they would have a few options other than hockey puck hamburgers or grease with a side of eggs.
I guess there is a positive twist to an earlier last call, it will certainly cut down on the DUIs or dialing under the influence. One less pineapple bomb with a Pabst chaser at the Worthen lessens the chance of drunk-dialing your ex.
After getting depressed about the possibility of losing seven hours of party time in a week, I flipped to my horoscope. It read: “Keep those that are the salt of the earth close to you today.”
I ordered extra salt with that margarita at last call that evening.
Should the city roll back last call? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.