Raise a glass, you goddamn drunk. It’s thanks to prodigious Boardwalk Empire-style violence in the bootlegging world that teetotalers like Rockefeller reversed their support for the law that said you couldn’t. In the thirteen years prior to 1933, the distillation, serving, and imbibing of booze were tragically illegal in these United States. So apologies in advance, but if you’re not sipping lovely brown Kentucky bourbon at this very moment, you may be arrested for treason.
Okay, it doesn’t have to be bourbon. It just has to be something brewed in this country to count (meaning Budweiser is out; catch the next slow boat to Belgium, pal). Acceptable drinks would be: something microbrewed on Cape Cod, trendy designer small-batch gin, California sparkling wine, or actually-still-illegal moonshine that makes you lose your sense of smell for a few days, no big deal. Canadian Club is permitted for its historic smuggleability.
If possible, drinks should be consumed in public, at a bar or in full view of a police officer. Don’t be fazed when he tries to write you a ticket. Just patiently explain that Prohibition has been off the books nearly a century at this point, so there’s no need for legal penalties. You’ve got the freedom to drink whatever and stumble wherever and throw up on whomever you like—make sure he knows it.
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