I was in Fred Meyer one day (which I adore, and is a topic for a whole other day) picking up my weekly groceries (and some jeans, and mascara, and condoms. See why I adore it?). I was pushing my shopping cart up and down the aisles, selecting various necessities to fill my wheeled basket: apples, pasta, chicken, milk, snap peas (snack-tastic), bread, etc. Personally, no grocery shopping trip is complete without certain thirst quenching items, particularly of the fermented kind. After perusing the wine selection for a nice sauvignon blanc, closely followed by the beer section for some cider and microbrew, it donned on me that I had some margarita mix taking up much-coveted space in the refrigerator. Taco night!
Still standing in the beer’s chill, I was trying to think of where the alcohol was stashed in my beloved Freddy’s. I started wandering around, hoping the location of my desired Reposado would come to me, perhaps in a vision. After about 5 minutes (but what seemed like an eternity), my cart came to a slow halt and I came to a slow realization: I could not find the alcohol because it didn’t exist. Not at Freddy’s, anyway. For in this lovely state, one must travel to a store devoted to hard alcohol in order to purchase it. As if the sin tax wasn’t enough, you have to go out of your way to pay it.
To top it all off, I had conjured up my amazing taco night idea on none other than a Sunday. Not only was I not going to get tequila at Fred Meyer, I was going to have a hard time getting it at most liquor stores. Because the state-run purveyors of heaven that offer their wares on Sundays are few and far between.
Now, I know Washington isn’t alone in the state-run liquor stores (I’m not trying to leave you out, Montana). It’s just not something that some other states (California comes to mind) have to deal with. I suppose I should be happy that I can at least buy beer and wine on Sundays, and in every county (cut your residents a break, Texas), but I sure do miss the ability to buy replacement rum at 1:15 am.