Unhappy Hour

Pat Fule
Fule for Thought

 

Until now, I’d never heard of “Dry January.”
In case you’re like me, “Dry January” is where you give yourself an entire month off from drinking. This year, I actually started before Christmas, and before I knew it, I had hit “Dry February” and now I’m on to “Dry March!”
Now before you start to peg me as the “town drunk,” in my defense, I’m not quite that bad! However, I do like to “hoist a few” with my pals, and I have been known to drag Debbie on my various misadventures in town. That being said, I do want to apologize to the liquor stores of Strathmore, for their recent drops in profit! I just hope that the owners are still going to be able to pay all their bills, and support their kids, without all my dough!
I don’t think Deb has been missing “Bar Pat” too much either. “Bar Pat” likes to stay late at bars, and as the drinks come, he thinks he’s wittier and funnier than “Dry Pat.”
In fact, on my 49th birthday, I saw a husky, older guy with white hair, and the start of a beard, who was on his cell phone. “Santa!,” I exclaimed, as I patted his shoulder. “Are you on vacation? Is that Mrs. Claus you’re talking to?”
He responded with a pretty icy glare (get it, Santa, North Pole … icy?) and I realized this was one of those times where Deb was right. Some witty comments are better kept to yourself!
There have been other “events,” like practising a coyote howl late in the night at bedtime, being chased by a pal in the Station’s parking lot and faking a heart attack … there’s quite a list! So, this Christmas was my first completely dry one in a long time. Growing up in a Hungarian family where breakfast could easily start with a shot of Palinka (fruit brandy), this was something new for me!
We even played a new game that’s all the rage. It’s that game where you shove a (hopefully) clean “dental dam” in your mouth, and read a goofy statement to your partner. He or she has to interpret as many sentences of yours as possible before the hour glass timer runs out! Deb and I destroyed my daughter and her fiancé. We had all agreed that I would always read the sentences, and Debbie would translate. The poor kids didn’t know that Deb had years of practice listening to my slurred speech! Round after round, she correctly figured out even the weirdest of sentences, and we racked up the points. It was like she was the “Drunk Whisperer,” but now I was sober! We only missed two sentences the whole game, and Deb said we’d have been perfect, if I’d read those from floor level, the height I’ve often spoken from!! What a kidder!
So, now I’m still hanging in there, the new Pat 2.0, learning to have fun without alcohol. I had read that I’d see huge changes in myself, that I’d have a clear mind and skin, and that I’d regain colour. Yeah, well I call BULL!
Since I stopped drinking, I have more bags and wrinkles, I got the flu, and I broke out in cold sores! I’ve come to believe that booze kept me preserved in a “stay fresh” package, and that it kept me germ free! The only good thing that’s happened, is that I’ve finally lost weight! In fact, my daughter said, “hey Dad, you’ve lost some of your chins!” Again, # out of my will!
My father-in-law was leaving this weekend and wanted to leave a bottle of vodka. He explained that he should, because he did have some of mine.
“Ken, you have to take this home,” I said. “I’m on a mission. If you leave this, it’d be like leaving a big chocolate bar for a fat kid! And I’m the fat kid!”
He took it home.

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)