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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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Conversion Vans v. Texas
A funny thing happened on the way to the Ridglea Theater last weekend. I got hammered.
OK, maybe “hammered” is an exaggeration, but I did do some powerful drinking before my band, Darth Vato, opened for Spoonfed Tribe there. But not at the bar. No, no, no. Some friends and I found inspiration — in the form of several gleaming beer cans — out in the parking lot, seated comfortably in my sweet van, the S.S. Erin Gray.
You may not know this, but, in addition to carting around a bunch of dudes, guitars, and amps (and, believe it or not, the occasional lady), the Erin Gray also doubles as a mobile bar. Well, OK, maybe that’s a stretch too. But imagine an ice chest on wheels, filled with Tecates and Lone Star and that has a roof and a steering wheel. That’s the spirit of the thing (pun intended).
As if it really needs to be said, I am not condoning drinking and driving. Not a single can is ever cracked in the Erin Gray until she’s parked and the keys are safely in the hands of the designated driver (hence the presence of the occasional lady).
However, it seems that by hanging out in my parked car and having a few brews I am inadvertently flouting open-container laws.
Lest you think otherwise, boozing in a vehicle — whether it’s in motion or not — is a Class-C misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum fine of $500. Apparently, there was a change in the state law in 2001 that made cans in vans (and cars, trucks, and presumably motorcycle sidecars) a somewhat serious offense. The exceptions are the backs of limos, buses, taxis, RVs, and, of course, doublewides.
Now, I’m relatively new to conversion-van culture. Needless to say, I was a little bummed last weekend, when, after a couple-a Lone Stars, one of my friends casually mentioned the law. Yeah, right, I scoffed. Like Texas Alcohol and Beverage Commission cops go around peeking into people’s parked cars.
“Yeah,” my friend said, frighteningly matter-of-factly. “Yeah, actually, they do.” And he’s right, as I later discovered — but only to a certain extent. A TABC agent isn’t going to be driving around neighborhoods on patrol, but during big events — like concerts and football games — you can bet he’s a parking-lot presence.
“So you’re telling me TABC detectives creep around Texas Stadium, kicking over coolers, confiscating booze, and firing off tickets everywhere?!”
“Sometimes,” he said. “Yeah, actually, sometimes they do.” Again, he’s right, but only to an extent. Different laws apply to tailgating, though, as we all know, boys in blue don’t need a really big excuse to move in on your troublemaking ass.
So about that open-container law: total bummer. On one hand, I can understand that bars, restaurants, theaters, and stadiums pay a ton of money every year to reserve the right to sell booze. Most of them, like the Ridglea and two of my faves, Cave’s Lounge and The Moon Bar, keep prices reasonable. At other places, though (and I’m not saying any names, Superpages.com Center!), the prices are unconscionably high. But isn’t my continued love affair with beer good for everybody who sells the stuff? Fact is, I drink way more inside clubs and venues than I ever do tailgating or, for that matter, at home. Who knows? I may just stop completely — and then who’s gonna pay the Moon’s monthly electricity bill, huh?! — Steve Steward
Editor’s note: The author is a part-time employee of the Moon.
Contact Last Call at lastcall@fwweekly.com.
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