It always seems rare to find somebody who doesn’t drink. Even more, a young person. Even more so, a bouncer. And again even more so, a bouncer at my old bar. Then I met Mick.

Mick is and was hilarious, and probably the best bouncer I’ve ever met. He was cool, calm and collected. He showed up on time, never drank on a shift, could spot a fake ID from across the street and could beat the crap out anybody. Not that he really needed to, because most people were terrified of him. He was about six feet tall and 220 pounds of muscle, stuffed into a body covered in scary looking tattoos. He shaved his red hair to the scalp and wore a ginger goatee.

On top of all that, he cracked some of the best jokes and pulled the best pranks on customers, other employees and even the dipshit musicians who played at our bar.

As I did often back then, I threw an afterhours party and invited Mick. I recall this particular night ended on a wild note: Some Dumbass and another Shit-For-Brains started a fight with me. I'm a fairly decent fighter, but I can't really take on two dudes, so Mick choked Some Dumbass completely unconscious while I scrapped with Shit-For-Brains. In return for Mick's kindness, I offered him a shot. Mick declined. So I offered him a beer. He declined once more, so I offered him another brew, again he declined. Here’s our conversation afterwards:

KC: Oh come on, dude! One beer? Just one!
MICK: No man, I don’t drink.
KC: Why not?
MICK: You know I was in AA, right?
KC: So what? It’s just one beer. Just give me one good reason not to have just one beer!
MICK: If I have one beer, then I’ll want another beer.
Then I’ll want another and another.
Then I’ll probably chug that whole bottle of whiskey.
Then I’ll jump in my car, drive to the sketchiest part of town, find a meth dealer, beat him to death, steal his money and all his drugs.
Then I’ll do all his drugs and spend all the money on more drugs and hookers.
Then I’ll probably wake up either in a gutter, some foreign country where the drugs are easy and the sex is cheap, or jail.
How’s that?
KC: Um. That’s a good enough reason. Um, how about a high five?