Day Drinking

What is it about sunshine that makes us want to drink?

Why does a beautiful day make us feel like margaritas are mandatory or a nice bottle of chilled Rose is the perfect way to pass the time?

When did DAY DRINKING become such a big thing?? There are even memes, t-shirts, and quotes all celebrating the “art” of day drinking. I’ll admit, I used to love it, and a perfect, sunny day can still act as a trigger. 

I first remember discovering this concept in college with big fraternity events that were a big deal in our Greek world.  At Tri-Chi, an event hosted by three different fraternities, we would pack up our coolers for the day and drink keg beer in a field for 12 hours straight while bands played, and we all got progressively drunker and more idiotic. 

There was even a right of passage that went along with the day called the “17 beer club”.  It pains me to think about it.  The goal was to drink 17 beers over the course of the day, marked by Sharpie tallies on your arm.  My memories from these days are foggy, but they include things like…seeing fist fights break out regularly, two-story beer bongs poured from the roof of a house, lines of girls peeing in the woods, and dancing on top of U-Hauls.  There was also a guy who would walk around all day wearing chaps with nothing underneath and his ass hanging out.  Good times.

Then there were the infamous horse race days, when we would charter a bus for the 2–3-hour drive through Virginia for a weekend of day drinking at the races.  My senior year we all drank so much on the bus ride there that I don’t remember ANYTHING from the horse races.  I certainly never saw a horse.  It was essentially a waste of a day, but it was sunny and beautiful and the perfect setting for day drinking.  That was just what we did. 

As I left college behind and moved into the adult world, day drinking continued to be considered a treat.  On sunny days, we would find any excuse to gather on someone’s patio, sit outside at the restaurant with the best margaritas, or find a festival or concert that allowed us to enjoy cocktails in the fresh air. 

Once we all started to get married, we graduated to somewhat classier versions of day drinking.

Saturdays were spent on our boat or sitting around with the neighbors in the cul de sac while the kids played. 

When the weather was particularly nice, we’d plan a day at one of the local wineries, spread out our blankets and chairs, and lounge there with the bottles flowing freely. 

Day drinking was less common but still, a luxury I looked forward to.  It seemed like the best way to spend a day with my favorite people.

As I started to confront my problematic relationship with alcohol, the whole concept of day drinking began to lose its luster. 

I wondered whether drinking was the best way to spend a beautiful day. 

I noticed that any type of day drinking usually brought with it a horrible headache that would start early and last well into the next day.  I’d be so tired by evening that I’d need a nap to make it through dinner, and even after sleeping it off, I’d feel foggy, achy, and unwell.  At some point during a day like this, someone would inevitably proclaim that we need to either KEEP DRINKING or just go to bed.  That was the logical solution to fending off the feelings of malaise that went along with a fading day-drunk buzz. 

When I quit drinking for good, I realized that day-drinking wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  I didn’t miss it like I thought I would.  In fact, I was surprised to realize that I enjoyed those beautiful sunny days a lot more when I wasn’t impaired or dealing with a late afternoon hangover. 

As I re-calibrated my fun sensors and learned how much more I enjoyed myself without the dull layer of booze as a buffer, I discovered that everything felt brighter and more enjoyable when I was sober, including those scenarios where the old me would have been day drinking like a champ. 

My laughter was louder and more genuine, my conversations more authentic, and I was more present and engaged with my friends and family.  Simply put, I have more fun on those crisp, sunny days, not less…and the bonus is that I remember every moment of it.  If I want a nap after a day in the sun, I take one, and then I wake up feeling refreshed.  When I go to bed, I do so knowing I can wake up the next day and do it all over again. 

I’ve been trying to figure out precisely what it is about a beautiful day that makes us want to drink in the first place.  All I can land on is that we want to be outside, and we want to connect.  We want to enjoy the company of our friends and have a good time.  Unfortunately, we’ve been conditioned to believe drinking is the key to having fun and connecting with people.  TV shows, movies, magazines, and the internet have drilled in that message.  Booze is the key to having fun, so if you want to get together with friends and enjoy a beautiful day, then mimosas or margaritas are clearly the way to do so. 

Yes, sometimes, a certain kind of day will still trigger me and make me cranky.  I start down that slippery slope, thinking about how unfair it is that I can’t just have a refreshing mimosa at that perfect brunch on the patio.  Or I get pissy about not getting to enjoy the adult freezy pops when it’s 95 degrees at the end-of-school party. 

Early on in my sobriety, I thought about it a lot at our lake house, which was basically a day-drinking free-for-all. I wondered if I would still have fun and enjoy my time there.

Those feelings don’t last long because I’ve trained myself to take a deep breath and remember how good I feel and how far I’ve come.  I play the tape forward and remind myself how NOT GOOD I would feel after a few drinks and how much less I would ultimately enjoy myself.  I think about the fact that those booze-fueled connections with friends are not genuine, and they’re not the best way to spend time with the people I love.  When I think back on my proverbial pro/con list for drinking, I remember that there were virtually no pros.  A few moments of supposed pleasure from a cocktail in the sun is certainly not worth it for the laundry list of cons. 

Day drinking is yet another one of the things I thought I’d grieve as I became alcohol-free. Despite those brief cravings and internal hissy fits, I don’t miss it at all. 

I look forward to nice weather and outside activities with friends even more than I used to, and I enjoy them immensely.  I don't even associate our lake house with drinking anymore.

I truly don’t even care if those around me are drinking.  I’m fully content just to soak up the sunshine, chat, laugh, and enjoy the day.  If I’ve had enough or people are veering towards sloppy and I’m not in the mood, I just head home.  I also love that my kids see my example in family situations.  They’re old enough to notice others drinking and, more importantly, to notice I’m not.  There’s no issue about who will drive or wondering what they’ll see or hear.  I’m in control of the situation and always have an exit strategy.

In my conversations with people who are on the cusp of making a change, this always seems to be one of the things holding them back.  I hear things like, “OH, but a cold beer on a sunny day!” 

I’m here to wave you over from the other side of the river, promising you don’t have to be afraid of crossing.  I don’t feel like I’m missing out on a thing over here.  In fact, the grass is much greener, and the sky is much bluer.  It’s like perfect San Diego weather year-round over here.  A cold beer on a sunny day is not worth it. You’ll be happy to make that "sacrifice" for a life that’s so drastically upgraded. You'll quickly realize it isn't a sacrifice and look forward to sunny days even more. Day drinking will feel like a distant memory, and you'll wonder why the hell you thought it was fun!!