Walking down Hicks Street on Saturday afternoon, Roan and I crossed paths with a very extremely drunken lady. She was all wobbly, and was being led by a guy with a firm grip on her upper arm. It didn’t look suspicious, though. More of a tight “I’m here for you to defy the gravity that is playing tricks on your intoxicated feet” hold. She had the typical drunken stupid smile on her mug. She was probably pretty cute when not ruddy-faced and sloppy-haired, and she was wearing a supercute summer outfit, minus one shoe.

So. We crossed paths with a drunken lady being assisted by a dude. Roan stopped in his tracks, and just stared. He turned around as they kept walking, and studied the man, the woman, and the circumstance. Then he turned to me and did the universal “What in the Sam Hell was that?” face. So I offered this gem:

“That was one drunken lady”.

That gem was not enough, and my eldest man-child did the universal “Keep Talking” face.

“I guess she just drank too much today. And now she’s drunk. And she’s also lost a shoe”

Roan countered, “I bet you’ve been drunk before.”


So, we’re going to have that talk?


I told Roan that yes, actually I have been drunk before.

But then I was magically able to blame it on my Mormon parents, and that they never drank alcohol – ever – thus depriving me of any responsible drinking role models. Sadly I was left to learn it all on my own. Over and over and over again. And again. Etc.

As I wound this Big Share down, I felt it was important to edit and filter my life story just enough to give myself a heroic and moral quality: so I added that I do now know my own limits, and will likely never walk down a Brooklyn street with one shoe missing and a tight grip keeping me upright. I tried to impress on Roan that it’s not a fun nor a funny thing to get that wasted. But it happens. And hopefully you have a friend nearby to get you home. And find your shoe.

Then the words that came from Roan’s mouth melted my moderate-and-responsible-drinker’s heart:

“I hope if I’m ever drunk enough to lose a shoe, you’ll be there to help me.”

I may just get that tattooed on my bicep.

6 thoughts on “One-Shoe-Drunk

  1. I “aw’d” out loud. Precious story. BTW, even when a person doesn’t have Mormon parents who’ve never *ever* had alcohol, a person still might learn “moderate-and-responsible” drinking on his or her own…over and over and over again. : )

  2. The Colorado Mama may be right, but I’m guessing that most kids not ALL kids but most kids are going to kick one back at least once or twice in their lives. Sweet that he wants you to be his shoe finder. Just hope that he still feels that way when he’s fifteen/sixteen/seventeen. If so, you’ll have master parenting status. Love the story.

  3. When my daughter turned 21, she asked if I was coming up to visit that night. I told her I’d go to dinner with her, but she could go out with her mom and her friends afterward. She said, “No, you have to come with us. I need you to be responsible for me.” I took it as the highest compliment…and we had a great (responsible) time.

  4. This is a hard one isn’t it? I am currently leaning towards the idea that maybe a kid’s first beer/wine/drink whatever needs to happen at home so the parent can be there to kind of guide the whole thing. I am also of the opinion that people who don’t believe that drinking of any kind is a good idea or that drinking of any kind before the kid is of legal age, even in the home, have a perfect right to raise their kids under those guidelines.

  5. How you learn to drink depend where you learn it. For example, when there was a holiday my father allowed me to drink some wine or beer. He told me that it better to drink where he can see rather then gatting wasted with some acquaitances.
    Oli from 😉

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