My fellow dazed and confused generational comrades, you have raised the bar on debauchery, depravity and sinful self-indulgence. I’m ashamed, really I am. I expected so much more out of you.
You were an impressively rowdy bunch, utterly inebriated heading northbound on the rails after Saturday night’s baseball game. I know all too well your evening began just after the strike of noon. Pregaming, as we affectionately call it. I understand the need to avoid ballpark beer prices, but there exists a time and a place for the consumption of a Captain Morgan handle, and it’s not on the Coaster. Or anywhere in public, for that matter.
To witness two patient and calm police officers babysit you fools was embarrassing. Your snide cop comments should have gotten you taserd. Nice work smashing that Coors can against your forehead, by the way.
It’s no longer entertaining enough to ride the train downtown, have a few cocktails, watch a good game (hopefully) then cruise home a bit exhausted and ready for bed. No, there was talk of hitting the Cantina in Carlsbad later or drinking tequila at a buddy’s house, all while slamming a case of cheap beer.
Boozing heavily in public becomes something of a tradition with our generation, and it only escalates after each successive outing.
Looking around, there wasn’t a single person over the age of 30 who was screaming, cursing, chugging beer, popping Vicodin, or showing off a sack of weed. Could it be that our generation parties harder, and with a more obnoxious flair, than any preceding generation, including all those geeks from the ‘60s?
I’ve lost hope. I know it’s supposedly all in good fun, but it’s a train people.
Sadly, most of you can no longer remotely rationalize your outrageous public intoxication. You’ve graduated college (barely, perhaps), where alcohol-induced blackouts were more common than bookwork. Somehow you’ve managed to slip into post-college society, where you are to act like a reasonable adult. Why does it seem your party days have only just begun?
North County Transit District will catch on soon enough. Just as mild-mannered booze sippers have recently been ostracized from the beach, they will soon lose all imbibing privileges on the Coaster. And all you knuckleheads are to blame. It happens all too often. Thanks for ruining the fun.
What’s wrong with maintaining a steady, publically acceptable buzz? We’ve gone too far when allowing your wayward girlfriend to stumble off a downtown trolley alone is suitable, if not downright funny. We’ve gone too far when urinating in the men’s room sink garners chuckles from bystanders. Puking in a paper bag while seated next to an easygoing older couple as they watch in horror? No problem, man. Have another!
I can’t, for the life of me, figure out how alcohol is legal. They say enjoy all things in moderation, but the “they” in this statement had no idea who they were dealing with. My generation has been reduced to slobs and drunken idiots. Well, a few of you anyway. We don’t know the meaning of excess, or moderation, or “dang, I’m hammered, I’ll stick to water from here on out.” It’s disgusting, really.
For all you girls out there, I ask that you start acting like ladies. Falling over in your mile-high pumps and short mini-skirt is so far beyond unattractive. And to those guys who know nothing about appropriate inside voices, calm down. Keep it classy, or stay home.
I might drive to the ballpark next time.
Filed Under: News