SLC: Killer of Happiness

Salt Lake City: Killer of Happiness

When I moved to Salt Lake City from New York City last year, I thought Utah and I could be good friends, but you keep taking away all that is pure and holy and happy in my life. By “pure and holy and happy” I of course mean booze.

Incident 1. SLC. I was on the road with my boyfriend for roughly 36 hours straight as we headed across the country to move into our new digs in Salt Lake City. More than sleep, we figure what we really need is a margarita to relax. We are sternly informed by the formerly chipper waitress at a Mexican restaurant that it is against the law to serve alcohol to patrons not actually eating in the restaurant. Phew! I was worried I’d have to decide for myself whether I had a stomach full enough to handle a margarita – it was so nice to learn that I wouldn’t have to make, nor was I capable of making, that adult decision during my time in Utah.

Incident 2. SLC. Thanks to my boyfriend’s brother, I had been hanging with “Straight Edgers” and other non-drinkers all weekend. They’re not bad guys, but they are scary, and they are judgmental, God love their hearts. All I wanted was a steak and a bottle of wine (a weekend with them turned me into Mr. Big, apparently). Where does one go for their convenient one-stop shopping needs? Wal-Mart. Don’t judge me. This is when I learned that people aren’t capable of buying wine and beer when out shopping for good deals on cameras and toilet paper, so I was grateful to learn that Utah had taken that out of my hands and was only allowing me buy wine at the state liquor stores. Beer may be bought at grocery stores, but it may only contain 3.2% alcohol by weight if not sold at the state liquor store. Again I said phew!

Incident 3. SLC. I am an obsessive fan of Muse, so getting to see them live was expected to be the highlight of my meager existence. It was the first concert I attended in Utah, and I quickly learned that A. unless it’s an 21+ show, there shall be no drinking, and B. the average Mormon male has a great deal of aggression to get out, and it usually is released in the form of moshing at absolutely any type of concert. For those Jessica Simpson or Yanni fans out there – you are not immune. It seems that concert workers aren’t capable of utilizing the wristband system that the rest of the country has for differentiating between those who are and are not of age, so once again Daddy Utah has stepped in to take care of that problem by simply outlawing alcohol to be present in the room with the under-agers. Meanwhile, I was left to endure the teenage aggression completely sober. I can’t help but think that alcohol would’ve helped all of us in that situation.

I will leave Utah in a few months. I liken it to a child having to flee from the overprotective parent. Look, Utah, I know you want what’s best for me, but in a lot of ways you’re doing more harm than good. How can I hone my drinking skills and learn the responsibilities associated with alcohol if I am so sheltered? And quite frankly, SLC is not a city than can afford to have its citizens so very sober all the time – it doesn’t have the architecture, culture, beauty, and charm to sustain a citizenry with no escape to substances that assist in appreciating the world around them. Why won’t you let us be happy?!

If interested in learning more about Utah liquor laws:

http://www.alcbev.state.ut.us/Liquor_Laws/liquor_laws_affecting_visitors.html