Ty Lawson stumbled through the door of the liquor store. It was two in the morning, and he had already consumed the purchases he had made at the same store not five hours prior. Unsteady on his feet, he gripped the shelves to make sure that he stayed upright; falling down due to drunkenness was sure to get him kicked out.
A fellow shopper saw Ty approaching him in the aisle and quickly moved to another part of the store. This action made Ty sad and angry. He wasn’t a violent guy, he wasn’t looking to start any trouble, he just had a little bit of a problem, and the only fix for that problem was to buy more booze. He wanted to call out and say that there was no need to be afraid of the tough-looking black guy with five days of stubble, but he knew his voice would be slurred, so he kept quiet.
He bypassed the refrigerator cases full of beer, the drink that had gotten him into this state, and went to the hard liquor section. There, he took small, measured steps, as falling into the merchandise could break an entire shelf’s worth of expensive bottles. He picked several large bottles of whiskey without looking at the brand or the price and carefully brought them up to the register.
He was trying to extract his wallet from his pants when he noticed that the cashier had not rung up any of his purchases. “What’s the problem?” he asked, too aggressively.
“I can’t let you buy these, sir. We don’t sell to the visibly intoxicated. State law.”
Ty was angered once again. He wasn’t even that drunk, and even if he was, they had always let him buy booze whenever he wanted at this store. Now that he searched his alcohol-muddled memories, he realized that this was a new worker whom he had never seen before. He tried to smile and put on a friendly tone, but knew he sounded more deranged than anything. “Maybe you don’t know me. I’m Ty Lawson. I can buy booze whenever I want. State law.”
“No can do,” said the worker, who looked anxious.
Seeing that his tactics of persuasion had failed, Ty grabbed the bottles off the counter and ran towards the door. However, his unsteady legs failed him almost immediately, and he went sprawling to floor, causing one of the bottles to shatter across the tiles. Puddles of amber liquid spread across the floor.
In pain and too drunk to stand up, Ty rolled over and feebly licked one of the puddles near him. His face was resting against broken glass, but he didn’t care. He needed booze bad, and he eagerly slurped up any of the spilled whiskey that was within reach.
In the background, he could hear the worker calling police. “Yo man, don’t do that, I’ll leave, just don’t call the police man,” Ty slurred as the store’s address was given. “I don’t got a problem, I’m just fine, I’ll go home right now. I ain’t no alcoholic. We just had a mis-, a mis-, a misunderstanding.” But he was so inebriated that any attempt to pick himself up and leave was a wasted effort.
When he heard the sirens approach the store, he closed his eyes and wept to himself. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.