I grew up in Ontario, Canada, where there was a strictly enforced drinking age of 21. I can recall the excitement when the drinking age was dropped to 18 (I was almost 16 at the time), it gave those younger than 18 a better chance of getting into those coveted bars to swill alcoholic beverages! After all, it was pretty hard for a 16-year-old to pass as 21, not so hard for a 16-year-old to pass for 18! The Canadian government pretty much immediately raised the drinking age to 19 due to the large increase in drunk-driving fatalities involving teen-agers, and it remains 19 to this day.
I moved from Canada to Bequia in 1977 and was amazed to find that there didn’t seem to be a drinking age. I certainly didn’t see youngsters frequenting bars or drinking alcohol at beach limes, and it made me wonder if the old saying, “rules are made to be broken” is the reason why young people in Canada were so eager to get into bars under-age. Perhaps the lack of alcohol abuse in the young on Bequia had more to do with the size of the island, and the fact that everyone knew who everyone else WAS. Whatever the reason, there was a much more casual approach to alcohol consumption – it was often consumed at odd hours of the day without eyebrows being raised – and over the years I got used to it; feeling seasick? Drink a beer or two and it will settle your stomach, don’t be concerned that it’s only 9:00 A.M! Day-sail to the Cays? By all means dip into that ubiquitous rum punch at 6:00 A.M., that’s what it’s there for! Lolling on the beach and too lazy to fetch your own beer? Send your child to De Reef for one and the bartender will gladly add it to your tab. I admit to being guilty of all of the above, it was all part and parcel of the casual way alcohol consumption was (and still is) treated.
Beer, although the country’s local brew contains 4.8 percent alcohol, is treated more like a soft drink. It’s refreshingly thirst-quenching on hot days, and that first delicious sip borders on the orgasmic. In the event you drink too many Hairoun beers and get tipsy you aren’t considered DRUNK, that label’s reserved for the heavy rum drinkers on the island. Efforts have been made in the past by some well-meaning souls to hold Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but on an island the size of Bequia you can forget the “Anonymous” part! I actually saw one of these sessions happening at De Reef Bar of all places, a bar that was overflowing with happy beach-goers downing cold alcoholic beverages with enthusiasm. It didn’t take long before the sober and sad-looking table of people, people who of course everyone KNEW, were being teased for conducting their meeting in a busy bar – why on EARTH would they choose to torture themselves in such a fashion!?
On one memorable occasion I attended a musical event at De Reef with a couple of friends, a fun evening involving dinner and more than our fair share of wine. When it was time for me to leave I was quite inebriated (a polite word for “shit-faced”), and couldn’t recall where I had parked my car. A young police officer, noticing my dilemma, came to the rescue;
“Miss Armstrong, you need help”? Aha, only my old students still called me “Miss Armstrong”, all was not lost! Admitting that I couldn’t find my car, he kindly held me upright and guided me to where I had parked in the playing field. He then helped me find the key in my purse and, when it proved too difficult a task, unlocked the car door. The officer then gently assisted in getting me behind the steering wheel, patted me kindly on the shoulder, and told me to enjoy the rest of my evening. Of course, I had NO business driving in such a condition – I made it home fine (fortunately the car knew the way) but that’s beside the point. It’s just plain wrong to drive under the influence of alcohol yet folks here do it all the time, and in that particular case I did so with the help of a police officer!
Alcohol abuse is common on Bequia, and I was an abuser. It was too easy to drink a beer instead of water, or wine instead of a soft drink, and owning a restaurant that served both didn’t help. My body gave me a stern warning several years ago and now, although I drink alcoholic beverages, I do so in moderation on special occasions. I still find that first sip of a refreshingly thirst-quenching, beastly cold Hairoun beer orgasmic, but have learned to control my intake!
I remember that all to well. We had a visitor, who could not get over the fact that he could drive and drink a beer as well. Almost like a “defiance” I would say.