Drinking on the Brink

I have a confession to make, I take pleasure in a glass of wine every so often and I appreciate the beverage even more when it can be enjoyed outside. Given the long, dark winters of Iceland these moments are few and far between which make them that much more special.

Icelandic law on alcohol does not ban drinking in public - thats right, you can get pie-eyed under the midnight sun without having to worry about spending the night in the can. That is, if you behave. The laws on alcohol say (doing my best to translate the peculiarly written policies): “Behavior that is uncivilized, dangerous or shocking in any manner is banned in public areas, public gatherings, cars and ships”.

The better part of the population has no problem in respecting this regulation. Except perhaps on Friday and Saturday nights (or should I say Saturday and Sunday mornings) when herds of people get roaring-drunk in downtown Reykjavik, a scene not to be missed if you are brave enough to venture into that modern time jungle. Beware though, chances are you will get stepped on and pushed around in the crowded bars where survival of the fittest prevails.

On more civilized occasions when people gather outside with a drink in hand, residents, for the most part, behave sensibly. There are, however, often black sheep in the herd that tend to start a commotion (they’re called bums). A good example of this can be seen on the few sunny summer weekend days when the Icelandic populace rushes downtown to enjoy the weather in a small little park called Austurvollur. Usually you will find a couple of unfortunate individuals in the bunch, entertaining the family-orientated crowd by singing, showing off their not-so-athletic bodies and every so often getting into a fight over 50 cents that wasted guy A owes canned guy B. The show usually ends when the hobos start exchanging blows, then the long arm of the law ordinarily interferes.

When I lived in Denmark and got to know a group of Americans, I came to realize that the Icelandic approach to drinking in public is liberal. The Danes are just as, if not more, broad minded when it comes to alcohol consumption, and for American friends of mine this appeared to be a liberation. When they realized that they could take their drinks outside they were as excited as pent-up calves released from the barn, and they took full advantage of their newly found freedom.

I did not fully comprehend my US friends’ excitement until I moved to Boston. It turns out, perhaps not surprisingly, that drinking on the street is illegal. More surprisingly, that law really is enforced. My roommates’ jaws dropped to the floor as I took a bottle of beer with me to drink on way to the bar. Their horror stories about friends spending a night in jail made me lose that bottle in a split second. As I got to know American drinking culture better, I found out that if you really want to take a drink outside you can conceal it in a brown paper bag. Sipping the beverage from a brown paper bag outside still is illegal, but the cops are less likely to take notice of it. This method is only to be used in dire situations and is usually the reserve of bums. As a consequence expect some disapproving looks, since this act is deemed unacceptable by society.

Accordingly, drinking outside is even rarer in Boston than it is in Reykjavik, despite plentiful opportunities. There is the occasional BBQ where you get the chance to sip away tucked away in a backyard. You can forget about taking a bottle of wine to the picnic in the park, which is a pity.

All in all I hope the Icelandic community enjoys the privilege of drinking outside responsibly, and appreciates not having to deal with the boys in blue every time they raise a glass to the skies.

Baldur Héðinsson is a student of mathematics in Boston