The Mother Load

Published July 12, 2009
St. George Spectrum & Daily News

Over the past few years, I’ve been working on developing a “live and let live” attitude about my fellow man. I’m trying to believe that everyone belongs, that everyone has a place in this world and a purpose, no matter how purposeless a person might seem.

These days, I’m trying to find a place in the world for Loud Drunk Girl. About a week ago, she thought her place was at a Midnight Jazz concert my husband and I were attending on the street corner where it was held.

Being a teetotaler myself, I don’t have a lot of experience with drunk people. I hear from friends that drunk people have entertainment value. I’m taking their words for it, but after my experience with this particular drunk person, I’m making mental notes not to take their words for anything important in the future. No, Jane, I don’t think I’ll try that new Thai restaurant after all.

There was nothing entertaining about Loud Drunk Girl. There she was, loud and drunk (and did I mention loud?), anxiously awaiting the start of the promised jazz music. By anxiously awaiting, I mean repeatedly yelling, “Areyougonna ssstart? Aren yahgonna plaaay anythinkgs?” These outbursts were interrupted occasionally by the arrival of her friends (or very tolerant complete strangers…who could tell?) which were heralded by her loud and drunk cries of, “Heeeeeeeeeey! You’re…heeeeeeere!”

Either her not as drunk friends decided to take on the “designated steerer of obnoxiously drunk people away from irritated jazz aficionados (DSODPAFIJA)” role or they all forgot why they were on the crowded street corner in the first place. Either way, Loud Drunk Girl staggered off into oblivion, the music starting just moments later. (It’s as if the band was waiting for her to leave. Crazy how that worked out!)

If there’s a place for everyone in the world, there must be a place for Loud Drunk Girl. Loud Drunk Girl must have some purpose in her loud and drunk existence. I understand that she’s probably not loud and drunk all the time, but this is the version of her with which I am acquainted. I’m not here to discuss the belongingness of Prim Responsible Girl, Loud Drunk Girl’s daytime alter ego.

I say we send her to Congress. No, no, no, not as a representative! I’m picturing her as an unpaid rabble rouser…an official heckler. I see her breaking into quiet conversations between lobbyists and legislators with loud and drunk shouts of, “Arenyahgonna governnnnow? Yahgonna do somethinnn fer your country? Think’f your constintunents!” I won’t pretend anything would get done, but at least we could all feel like our representatives are earning their pay.

We could put her to work in the emergency room. “Heeeeeey! Thisguy’s in pain! Anyonegonna help thisguy? I like thisguy…he’s a goodguy.” Who can think about pain when they’re overcome with annoyance?

Imagine Loud Drunk Girl at a poorly attended middle school football game. Can kids be discouraged when they have Loud Drunk Girl shouting, “Wooooooo! Go teams! Play ‘n throw the ballllll! Yoooou’re running! Running is the beessssst?” Every time more fans arrived, Loud Drunk girl could greet them with a sloppy embrace and a, “Heeeeeeeey! You’re…heeeeeere!”

According to friends, there are Loud Drunk Girls all over the country. I say it’s time to put them to work. Let’s give them a purpose! Siphon them away from the Midnight Jazz concerts and toward a productive future.

The first person who says, “Give them a humor column,” can go jump in a lake.