Fear and Loathing in Connecticut

My family and I were recently in Connecticut for a family vacation. Let me just explain that the only reason we were in Connecticut was because my sister had the genius idea in high school to attend college at the United States Coast Guard Academy. I always feel the need to explain why I was there because nobody I know would ever vacation there out of their own free will. But alas, several hours of transit later, I found myself in a place where in the time it takes to drive 3 miles in Los Angeles, you could be zipping through 3 states already.

Yay, Connecticut!

It is common Coast Guard Academy tradition to rent a beach house with your family a week leading up to graduation, which is the child-friendly version of saying you’d be boozing it for more than a couple of days with your friends and family. In the spirit of the festivities, my parentals decided to host my sister’s entire softball team. And what’s a graduation party without alcohol?

After going to Wal-Mart and finding out they didn’t even sell the stuff, we ended up at a mom & pop liquor store, where it became clear that Connecticut was not like Las Vegas: alcohol is not sold on Sundays.

“Sorry, English is not my first language – I’m not sure I understand!”

Mortified, my father did what any self-righteous parent of a college graduate would do:

Literally the answer to all of our problems

Dad: “Siri, does Rhode Island sell alcohol on Sundays?”

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