Well Being

Drunk Brunch Is Illegal In NYC, City Reverts To Prohibition Era Madness

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bottomless brunchI have a long-running joke with myself that if I had a nickname that would be used in quotation marks as my middle name in something like my obituary or embroidered in cursive on my mechanic's uniform, I'd want it to be “bottomless mimosas.” Joanna “Bottomless Mimosas” Rafael bubbles right off the tongue, doesn't it? Well, it does after a few flutes of juice mixed with champagne. Too bad my self-imposed moniker is illegal. It was never going to catch on anyway.

The NYC Hosipitality Alliance aka The Narc Brigade recently put out a press release reminding American businesses of “The ABC Law [which] prohibits selling, serving, delivering or offering to patrons an unlimited number of drinks during any set period of time for a fixed price”––also no dancing (that's not really in there). Basically, if a patron of your restaurant or bar gives you legal tender, in return you cannot give them a carte blanche on your boozy offerings. I thought this was America, allegedly a country where we are free to buy all the guns and donuts we want.

Remember the New York City gigantic soda ban? A lot of people were outraged because they wanted New York City inhabitants to be able to buy as much soda as their money can buy no matter how unhealthy it is. When they came for the giant sodas, and I did not speak out––because I don't drink soda. Then they came for the cigarettes, and I did not speak out–– because I don't smoke cigarettes. Then they came for my endless brunch cocktails and there was no one left to speak for me. Not that New York City is Nazi Germany or anything close, but you get it.

New York is a prohibition-era nanny state. If I wasn't as staunchly in favor of eating breakfast midday with our without a potentially dangerous number of cocktails, I would be super bummed out. If you want to fight back about this government intrusion on your right to party, keep in mind that you can drink all the mimosas you can pour down your gullet as long as you mix them in this nasty little underground speak-easy called your own home.

via Brokelyn//Image via Shutterstock