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Saturday, January 28, 2006
Binge drinking a problem, but also a choice
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Jeff was awakened by a gurgling sound. It emanated from the other side of the room.
He was a student at the University of Georgia, living off-campus in a cool apartment. He and his friends studied hard and partied often. On this night, they imbibed quite heavily.
They never needed much reason to celebrate, but this night was special. His roommate was turning 21. Time to party. Everybody chipped in for a fifth (or maybe it was a liter) of Bacardi 151 rum.
Copper-colored rocket fuel.
They consumed one rum and coke after another. No one complained about being sick. No one spoke with slurred speech or stumbled around. Everything seemed to be under control.
A week ago, Lewis Fish wasn’t so fortunate. The 19-year-old UGA student died after a night of drinking. UGA police say he went to a party at a private residence and then to a fraternity house, where he drank a bottle of whiskey he’d had in his pocket. The authorities are trying to piece together his last few hours in the Classic City.
When a tragedy like this happens, a familiar script unfolds. We wait for the police to complete their investigation, one that may find culpability. We lament over the young generation’s sense of invincibility and carefree existence.
There’s a renewed concern about binge drinking, especially among the underaged. We turn to college officials, bar owners, students — anybody with insight on ways to curb excessive consumption of alcohol.
All this we do in post-tragedy mode. It’s all commendable, responsible and sincere. The goal is noble. Who wants another family to lose a loved one to an alcohol-related misstep?
But there’s a bitter truth that will always detract from what we do.
There’s an element that’s key to whether we have another alcohol- related death next month or next year. It packs more power than anything we do, and we can’t control it.
It’s free will — the way it’s exercised. It’s the choices we make and how we decide, exactly, what we will or will not do. At any given time. In any given situation.
Jeff Aaron, my roommate in college, was never a deep sleeper. Which was lucky for me. I might not be writing this column nearly 20 years later.
My friends and I chugged rum and coke for hours that night. I woke up to find Jeff leaning over my bed. He was tapping me on the shoulder. Calling my name.
I’d been the songbird emitting that gurgling sound. I wasn’t snoring, though. I was vomiting in bed and, apparently, choking on it. That could have been the way I spent the last hours of my life — lying in a pool of vomit, asphyxiated. My 21st birthday would have been my last.
I made that decision 20 years ago to consume high-octane rum and coke. I lived to tell it.
Not everyone is so fortunate.
Mr. Fish, bless his soul, reminds us of that.
• Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com
