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July 20, 2002 Planning out your packies Danny and me, escaped from Stephen King country and roaring southward now bound for Boston and oddly, an art car gathering in South town at some place called the Distillery. The Dodge Caravan Apple Schnapps-fueled 4-barrel tin can family rocket car is tearing up the tarmac at frightening speeds. New Hampshire State Line Liquor Store, last chance to buy untaxed booze. We’re almost there now. The trees along the highway bow to us, bending full over in the shock blast vacuum of our Light Speed passage. Then whoosh! Just like that Dan passes the exit by. What are you doing? I demand to know. We can’t live without more Apple Schnapps! And Lord knows as soon as we hit Taxachusetts the taffy wrap-liquor laws will stretch, twist and twizzle even the most hardened boozer into a mad, frantic tizzy of last-minute “packy” (package store) runs and Sunday morning righteous indignation at all that liquor under lock and key. Prohibition must have been a terrible time to live in, but it’s gotta be worse being a traveler, a road dog, maybe a rock musician on tour or a fresh-faced young traveling salesman when suddenly the urge for a beer hits you, but ooops! Sorry. What? You mean you didn’t stock up yesterday? Don’t you know today is GOD’s day? Hey, lemme tell ya punk. God is a drunk. Or at least he has been in the past. And if for some reason he’s on the wagon, well, that could explain Global Warming and Muslim fanaticism. Anyway, bad move to cross state lines, or hell even town limits in New England without planning out your alcohol consumption and procurement well in advance. [end] ..fer now!
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