Humour Me

Midnight is an excellent time for a bourbon milkshake by the sea.

You’re shaking your head. No, no, midnight is a terrible time for a bourbon milkshake by the sea. The noise from the blender alone will wake the whole house, and who can locate vanilla extract in the dark? Or tell the difference between cumin and cinnamon? And what if you want to add peaches, or pumpkin, or salted caramel? No one has those items within reach at midnight. No one is that weird.

No, you think, midnight is not a good time for a bourbon milkshake by the sea.

But you think wrong.

Because midnight, while walking past Barb’s All-Night Diner where there are no housemates to consider — not yours, at any rate — and many flavours of milkshake including, but not limited to, lime, which is disgusting on its own but delicious with a splash of Maker’s — actually make that two splashes, maybe get a large and leave room for three fingers, no four — is an excellent time to indulge yourself.

And a person with a bottle of bourbon in their bag by themselves at midnight might have a few things to think about, options to assess. Might be looking to borrow from another state of mind, warm themselves up before diving in deep. And frankly, if you have to make any choices, come to even one conclusion, deciding on dairy is a pretty safe place to start.

No, no, you think, still shaking your head. Bourbon milkshakes by the sea at midnight aren’t a good idea. You’re not supposed to drink alone. It isn’t healthy. It isn’t right.

But you’re not thinking rationally.

Because midnight, and a desire for something sweet and a swim before bed, come regardless of whether your messages have been answered, phone calls returned. Midnight and bourbon milkshakes don’t care if the people you want to be with don’t want to be with you. They’re independent of love. Barb’s and midnight live by one thing, and that thing is a 24-hour clock.

And besides, have you ever tried to coerce someone into drinking something they hate (cold) and dive into possibly stingray-infested water (also cold) for no other reason than it’s refreshing, and it’s fun, and it makes you feel alive, and it usually answers some of your questions, even when it doesn’t use words so much as change your perspective? It touches on impossible. People hate cold things.

I am curious, and I am no coward. Over many midnights, I have wasted cash on cabs to dead-ends, waited in line to enter pungent clubs, eaten burgers I didn’t desire, seen movies I had no interest in viewing, wandered through tinny concerts with terrible acoustics, crouched on darkened doorsteps and sent cautious text messages — “come down, I’m here.”

So take a second to think: has anyone ever gone along with one of your whims simply because it’s what you wanted to do, and not because they did too? If you can name even one instance, you probably don’t understand the necessity of drinking a bourbon milkshake alone at midnight by the sea. You still think someone else should be around.

But as we’ve pointed out several times so far, you think wrong. As they say — you gotta do what you gotta do. Not everyone gets the luxury of company. There are the compromisers, and the compromises — neatly divided in two, with only one half that’s the other half. And I, I have never seen how the other half lives.

My midnights, if anyone asked, are at their best with a bourbon milkshake by the sea. But no one ever asks, and anyway, the activity would make them recoil. It isn’t rational, surely, and it isn’t enough that it’s with me.