Oh Whiskey You're the Devil

When you think of the Royal Ascot, what probably comes to mind is race scene in the movie My Fair Lady, and that would be fairly accurate in terms of attire. Fancy hats and tail coats abound. The attitudes of the patrons, however, are not staid and stern. A fair percentage of the patrons are well off, but not stuffy; they shout "Move yer bloomin' arse!" just as well as Eliza Doolittle. The vast majority of patrons are regular folk in their Sunday best out for a view of the horses and, like all great social events, a chance to get rip-roaring SMASHED. This is why my fellow AYS crew and I were treated to a lovely drunken rendition of Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" on the train ride home on the second day of the Ascot. Picture this pop-tart anthem as sung by Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers films and you have a good idea of what this sounded like. Add to this the fact that he was screwing up the words quite badly, and I think we have a candidate for "Worst American Idol Audition Ever."

I find it interesting that the London Underground has only very recently made a rule against consuming alcohol while in transit. This rule went into effect about a month ago, and Brianne and I were coming out of the tube just as it struck midnight on the day; as we were exiting, we passed a squadron of cops heading into the tube to start rounding up the drinkers who were - at that very moment - now in violation of the law. They had their work cut out for them - some young lawyer from the city had used Facebook to organize a system-wide booze-up, causing the entire Circle Line tube to be jam packed with frat-style frollicking. It was a gargantuan mess that we had, mercifully, avoided.

At least this new tube law is one way to curb public drunkeness, but another factor to the problem that I've noticed seems to slip past unchecked: most pubs close at a decent hour of 12 or 1 am, but they stop serving food around 9pm. This leaves three to four solid hours for patrons to knock 'em back without the benefit of potato skins and nachos to mitigate the effects. And then we wonder why it is that there is a mob staggering out at closing bell to wander into traffic and belt out Rod Stewart's greatest hits!