I was pretty excited when I walked the aisles of Wal-Mart in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin and found they have a liquor aisle. This isn’t something we’ve seen very often outside of California. My eyebrows raised and I actually uttered half-audibly, “Wow, Wisconsin is one of the cool states!” I grabbed a bottle of Bacardi and a box of wine (yep, that’s how I roll these days) and plopped them into the cart, resuming the remainder of my browsing and stocking.
Up at the front, at nearly 10:00pm, the belt at the register moved my purchases along, and when the Bacardi got to the cashier, he picked it up and said, “Well, now, it’s after 9:00pm…” as if I should know what that means.
I replied, “Oh, it sure is! Is that bad?”
He said, “Yea, well, I can’t sell this to you. Folks who wear better clothes and make lots more money than I do made that rule.”
What could I say? Here I was so excited Wisconsin Wal-Marts sold liquor that I didn’t even think there would be further restrictions on its purchase. No alcohol purchases after 9:00pm. Ok, noted. At least no sirens went off when I wheeled them from the liquor aisle. Still, he may as well have put on a white apron and yelled over the counter at me, “NO WINE FOR YOU!”
We were in Searcy, Arkansas yesterday, where we stayed one night in town on our way back to Texas. We went to a small pizza parlor/ Italian restaurant for dinner and I perused the menu. Kids Meal decisions always priority and out of the way, my eyes scrolled for a wine menu. Nothing.
When I asked the waitress if they serve beer or wine, she looked at me as if I had asked her for a bag of gold-- or a dirty diaper; she was very hard to read. Either way, I had clearly asked for something that was unheard of. We went ahead and inquired and she explained that we were in a dry county. A whole two restaurants in town had liquor permits—the maximum allowed in the city-- and the nearest county liquor sales office was in Cabot, Arkansas, some 25 miles away.
Despite the dry county status, in our twelve hours in Searcy, I counted nearly a dozen fences, signs, block walls, and lighting fixtures that had clearly been plowed over by either folks in need of glasses or driver’s training or who had had far, far too much to drink.
Our very first stop in our fulltime family journey was a single evening in Laughlin, Nevada. First of all, it’s Nevada. Second of all, Laughlin is the wannabe Vegas—anything goes, right? Kailyn was less than two months old and after a long day in the truck and heat, we looked forward to an evening at the pool at the Avi. I wheeled a sleeping Kailyn in to the bar of the casino and ordered a glass of house wine, only to be informed it’s a state law not to serve anyone with children in a bar. Yes, the bartender was a little judgmental and gave me a certain sort of scolding look, but presumably upon seeing my dejected expression and the faint glimmer of tears of embarrassment in my eyes, he softened: “Now, if you wanted to go stand on the other side of the entrance there and call over a waitress, she can bring you a glass of wine.”
Well, that makes sense. Don’t serve a lady with a baby in a bar, but 12 feet away at the entrance is totally cool.
When we went through Colorado, Kailyn was so young I wasn’t really partaking in the personality juice all that much, but I did like to keep a bottle of wine or six-pack of beer around from time to time. Most of our shopping is done in super-stores or supermarkets, and it quickly became obvious to us that we couldn’t do a “one-stop shop” that included alcohol in Colorado. There were small liquor stores throughout each town we rolled through, but it was rare to find a supermarket with a liquor area. We learned that a maximum of two supermarkets per city are allowed liquor permits. In fact, it was only recently that Colorado had lifted a state policy that restricted alcohol content to 3.2% for beers sold in the state.
If a person wanted cannabis in Colorado, though, no problem. There was a small cannabis shop just about every block. They far outnumbered liquor stores…and Starbucks.
In Utah, I didn’t expect to find alcohol easily. That seemed a given. So, it surprised me when we found a beer aisle at a Wal-Mart in St. George. I had recently ordered a Polygamy Porter (I mean, I had to!) at a restaurant in the area and couldn’t contain my audible surprise at finding it in the refrigerated section at Wal-Mart! Notably, there was a college-aged couple in the beer aisle when we were there. I smiled at them when I reached for the six-pack of Polygamy Porter and they both averted their eyes as if I had caught them making out under the bleachers. Brent and I kind of giggled to each other and pushed the cart forward. When I glanced back over my shoulder, I caught them peer nervously around before hastily grabbing a six-pack of Coors and hurrying from the aisle. Don’t worry—they couldn’t get hammered on it. Utah restricts its alcohol content to 3.2% in beers sold over the counter.
For most wine or liquor in Utah, one must go to a state-run “Liquor Agency”. We did do that for wine at one point. But we didn’t plan on stocking our liquor pantry on a Sunday. No alcohol sales (for taking home) are allowed on Sunday in Utah at all—unless it’s purchased from a craft brewery or distillery, which is a strange loophole to the rule. These locations are allowed to sell beer that is more than 3.2% alcohol content, as well, but you certainly won’t get more than that from anything you buy at a store any day but Sunday.
So, the Polygamy Porter I enjoyed at the restaurant was close to 7% alcohol content, but the ones I purchased at Wal-Mart were less than half that.
In Oregon and Washington, there is such a high tax on liquor that it’s hardly worth buying. Costco might sell the big “handle” of Captain Morgan, for example, but it wouldn’t carry the familiar California price-tag of around $18. In Washington, that handle runs around $35. I wasn’t in the habit of seeking out liquor when we were in those states last summer—I was happy with beer or wine, which wasn’t any more expensive than it had been in California. We were informed by locals we met, though, of the exorbitant prices of “fun punches” in Oregon.
It was hard to ignore huge billboards at the northern border of California as we neared the Oregon border that blazoned “Got Weed?” and “High on Life?” with the promise of legal cannabis sales. Likewise, when we crossed from Oregon back into California, we were marketed the other fun stuff: “Got Liquor?” and “Stock Your Bar!”. So, at least each of the western states has its own affordable recreational mood-altering substances to offer folks—all one has to do is cross the border for purchase.
In Durant, Oklahoma, I circled the same aisles of Wal-Mart where I had found wine in other Wal-Marts, feeling like I must be missing something. I asked a heavy-set stocker in those aisles-where-wine-wasn’t if they carried wine and his expression alone drawled, “Um, no. Like, duuuuuuh!” The run-down tin-building liquor store across the street with chains across its glass door sold the boxed wine I like but it was $8 more than it would have been at a HEB supermarket in Texas.
Speaking of Texas, we’ve found that counties vary. Some are dry; others aren’t.
And I was caught off guard by a “Mixed Drink Fee” of $.50 tacked on to any form of alcohol bought over a bar at a restaurant. It makes an already expensive $6 bottle of Dos Equis along the Riverwalk in San Antonio even more expensive, to say the least.
Target and Wal-Mart and HEB in most areas of Central Texas we’ve been sell beer and wine, but not liquor. By the time we’d reached Texas in Spring of 2018, I was dabbling in the occasional Fireball on the rocks and was craving a cold White Russian from time to time.
We’ve spent several months in Central Texas now. I’ve learned that there are a few large chains of liquor stores like Specs or Twin Liquors, but most liquor stores are small establishments that barely seem to keep their foot in the market in run-down strip malls in need of maintenance and paint.
I had taken Kailyn with me into Bastrop, Texas, a thirty-minute country-road drive from where we are staying in McMahon. We had visited multiple thrift stores and Ross as part of our errands in town and still needed to go to Wal-Mart. It was hot and Kailyn’s patience was waning, as was mine. My end-of-errand “Hopeful Purchases” list was short and included vodka and Kahlua.
By the time we trudged ourselves out of Wal-Mart I was feeling that invisible time limit full well. Kailyn would fall asleep in her car seat within minutes of getting the car’s air conditioner fired up. Waking a sleeping baby to take her into a liquor store as a final stop of the day was unconscionable. It would have to be a close liquor store if anything!
I glanced around and in my mind’s eye, I could imagine a small worn-down strip mall the next parking lot over. So, I steered the car around the backside of the Wal-Mart parking lot to the next shopping center over and sure enough discovered a small strip of concrete building in a state of disrepair from the heat of the season. On the face of the shop at the end of the strip was a red-lettered sign that read “LIQUOR” with more than one of the letters cracked and broken of age. Since I was coming around the backside, I had to loop around the end closest to the liquor store and then I saw it—a DRIVE THROUGH WINDOW.
So, there you have it: Drinking across the States—so far. Trust me, despite my ongoing quest for alcohol, I promise I’m not some kind of traveling lush. I am, however, a gal who shares 377 square feet with her family and who enjoys the occasional partaking in “Mommy Drink” time. With all the marveling I’ve done… and sometimes embarrassment I’ve endured… I’ve often wished I had some kind of guide to alcohol purchase as we cross state lines. I figured the least I could do was provide you with what little I’ve learned.
With each new state comes a new mystery—where will we find the alcohol aisle and to what extent will we need to go to imbibe?