When my Orlando-based uncle was still with us, he would often relate the story of coming to my Saturday morning buddy basketball games at Gernon Brown- remarking that every dad would come in with playmate ice chests filled with beer
Obviously it’s better’ now but nowhere close to good
We’d get stopped back in the day on the way home from keggers and the cop would say “go home. If I see you again tonight you’re going to jail” which just meant you’d have to call your parents from the pokey. You had to really mess up to get a DWI