It is no surprise that some of the most legendary imbibers in history shared two other passions: writing and traveling. Papa Hemingway springs to mind (that’s him in the photo above, by the way, leaning on the bar like the magnificent bastard he was). So do Byron, and Charles Dickens, for that matter. And a personal favorite, Dorothy Parker, who wrote about the joys and necessity of ample booze with a wit and grace that few could ever rival. It is only natural that some of the greatest writers in history were also keen fans of the Creature–it loosens the shackles that bind the tongue and removes the blinders that our daily lives force upon our minds’ eye. It sets the heart alight and gives us the feeling that we could strike out and conquer the known world like a Newcastled Napoleon, or a guttered Alexander the Great. So, like Napoleon or Alexander the Great (both known to be heavy drinkers, the Internet tells me). Drink opens up the obscure world of our inner selves and gives us a desire to seek out new horizons because, who knows–they might have better booze out there.
For many of us, this has been a brutal winter. And when times are tough, we seek comfort and solace in our locals, or we rejoice in a drink as stiff as our joints in the frigid winter air. For me, I braved the blizzard in Boston while moving out of my apartment, surviving on a steady diet of Narragansett and bourbon, letting their winds fill the sails of the Good Ship Drunkard and carry me forward to my own new horizons (and tortured metaphors). And with a good wind behind me, I intend to keep going.
But I’m tired of the cold, so I’m going to Jamaica.
On my way, I’m going to explore the perverse nature of airport bars, the state of the modern travelling drinksman, and will send back word of how our Jamaican brothers and sisters get their swerve on. No distance is too far to travel for a good drink, and there’s bound to be news out there somewhere.