Drinking Age
Drinking Age Last weekend had been my 19th birthday. I had headed home to East Texas, stayed with my grandparents, had a small party at home, and been prayed over at the First Presbyterian Church. Now I was back in Houston, I had finished my day's work at the Rice University library, and it was Friday evening. I had never been to a bar, although my family weren't teetotalers, and I had had beer and wine at home. But it was 1984, it was Texas, and the drinking age was 19. Normally friends would take you out, but most of my friends were elsewhere for the summer, and my roommates were Evangelical Christians. They didn't drink. They were also away for the weekend at an Intervarsity retreat. Me, I wanted to go to my first bar, and this was my chance to do it. We lived at the southern edge of the Bohemian part of town, the Montrose, and a few blocks from the house we rented there was a bar. It was called The Mineshaft. It was large raised wooden cottage of...