1/28/05: Who's zooming who?

Last night, as I got aboard the Number 2 train, one of New York City's last remaining functional subway lines, I detected a strong smell of booze.  I quickly realized it was coming from the businessman who had climbed on right in front of me.  He was about 55, distinguished head of silver hair, decent suit, and he just reeked of liquor and aftershave.  I immediately respected him, because there ain't many like him around anymore. Just a good old-fashioned Office Drunk. When you talk to your parents about their old jobs, I'm sure they occasionally mention The Office Drunk, some guy (or lady) who just nipped away at a bottle all day at their desk -- never out in the open but not fooling anybody, either.

Seeing this guy made me happy because I kind of thought The Office Drunk had been slowly phased out to the point of extinction over the years. It was like looking up to find a proud and majestic buffalo right there on the subway.  Since those glorious 1970s days, companies have gotten a little more buttoned-up about workplace intoxication. There are strict drug and alcohol policies, and frankly I don't think daytime drinking plays as prominent a role in business as it once did. Those of you in sales might disagree, I guess you still have the whole "martini lunch with the client" scene. Anyway, this guy was what I guess you'd call a functional alcoholic. I'm sure he makes all his meetings, rarely calls in sick, and doesn't embarrass himself by stumbling, slurring, or playing grabass.  But all day, every day, he's thinking about the hooch in his top desk drawer, and I bet he tugs on that thing twice an hour.

It made me wonder what it would be like to just keep a little bottle in my desk for periodical warm-me-ups throughout the day.  Could I drink it slowly and steadily, and stay sober enough to avoid attracting attention?  Or would I be pickled by noontime and fired by three? Were I a younger man in a different place in life, I would give it a shot in a little verbungle.com office experiment.  But I don't think the time is right for that. Feel free to try it yourself and report back with a recap of what happens.  If you operate heavy machinery, we recommend you pass on this one and leave it for the office lackeys of the world.

We also hereby absolve ourselves from any and all responsibility for whatever happens if someone is actually stupid enough to try this. If you do try it, I recommend going with a high-end vodka as your poison of choice.

Here's to you if you pull it off.  Here's to Subway Man either way.

***

Back in the mid to late 1990's, the internet was like what I imagine the American West was like in the early to mid 1800's.  Meaning, there were already those who had been there for years and understood the land, but then the white man came through and tore everything good to shreds. Along the way, though, we had some fun.  There was Napster Original Extra Gold, there was the fucking annoying dancing baby, and of course there was free pornography.  And perhaps towering above all of that, there was AOL. I recall my days on AOL with nostalgia. Other than the email interface, I really have no problem with AOL as an internet experience, especially as you're learning the ropes.

One of my favorite things to do was instant message with friends. Sometimes a few of us would go trolling in some chat room, ruining the experience for others, always agreeing that they deserved it.  For my regular email and IM purposes, I had one screen name, and for my dickhead troublemaking, I had another.  For those purposes, I was mikereno7 (then mikereno8, then mikereno9, etc.). Of course I took the name "Mike Reno" from the wildly charismatic frontman for the hopelessly 1980's 1980's band Loverboy. I would go into chat rooms and crack one liners here and there under his name, although in no way did I want people to think I was actually Mike Reno.  Usually I was polite and friendly, and occasionally someone from the chat room would IM me privately outside the room.  Here is the long-thought-lost-forever transcript of one such conversation:

That's the way it was.  We were young and our hearts were an open book.

Please note that I tried to let him off the hook at the beginning.  Also please consider my theory that HE was fucking with ME the whole time.  Not as funny that way, though.

Reno out.

* Now you can occasionally reach me on IM as Srodyc, especially if you have a breaking news story you'd like to report.