The Legend of the Beer Clock

Circa 1985 my dad, my old friend Phil and myself were sitting in a dive bar called The Cabana in Chula Vista, drinking one-liter mugs of ice cold beer.  About ¾ the way through mug #6 dad decided it was time for him to go; I pointed at his not-empty mug and said, “beer clock.” 

Dad introduced us kids to the beer clock at an early age, the basic premise is that the beer clock reads “time to go” when the pitcher or glass is empty, and most importantly, not before.  When I invoked it he laughed, acquiesced to the authority of the beer clock, chugged the rest of his beer and stayed to drink three more liters of beer with us.

I told him that I was carrying on the fine tradition of the beer clock with my kid, who was about five at the time.  Dad wasn’t often given to displays of emotion, but on this occasion I saw him hurriedly brush a tear away, a couple more streamed past… I don’t know why but my eyes started to leak too… he said something funny that included the word fuck, gave me a hug and the moment passed.  But every once in a while I wonder what touched him so deeply, on that drunken night so very long ago…

Many years have come and gone, dad passed away (RIP Old Dude,) my kids are now grown, but despite consuming extreme amounts of alcohol that day, the memory of the moment remains clear as day in my mind.

A side note: I lived 20 miles away from Chula Vista.  We had just drank 9 liters of beer in a sitting, we were well past the legal limit; Phil had driven flawlessly over 19.9 of those 20 miles...  Literally a block from where I lived, Phil punched the accelerator momentarily to spin his rear tires in the gutter we were crossing.  A cop that happened to be there noticed his “exhibition of speed” and red-lighted us as he parked across the street from my apartment.  But of course it didn’t matter, we were fucked up, Phil was arrested for DUI, and I, unable to STFU, had to spend 6 hours in detox. 

(Doesn’t if fucking matter that we live right the fuck here?  As it turned out, no, it did not.  Phil was booked, released and set free to roam the city street hours before I was.  I wasn’t charged with any crime, but the detox people held my driver’s license and I was told I’d be prosecuted for drunk in public if I left early.  Talk about a buzz kill… I was pissed the fuck off, and then some.)