Word: drank
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...little polish and a pretty girlfriend. Carlo had no pretensions. But he set out to learn a few. And what better place to learn them than at Harvard, with its musty classrooms and its big-shot professors and its hordes of rich preppies who all wore alligator shirts and drank fine Scotch before going to class? Unfortunately, 8 Prescott St. was not a very good place to learn pretensions...
...Queens without hating it. To Carlo, who for the last seven years had managed to slip into the corner drug store every Sunday while his parents thought he was at Mass, anyone who liked Catholic school qualified as a certifiable madman. Even worse, the kid liked baseball and drank beer like a walking keg and though St. Paul's was a cathedral somewhere. No pretensions, no class. From Day One it was undeclared...
...even going to have enough money to pay for the relish. But still he was learning, he was watching these people, watching how they dressed and how they talked and how they managed to hide the grimace when they swallowed Scotch on the rocks, which was what they all drank but none of them liked. It was too late to walk out then, when he was learning so much, and when he had come to Harvard to learn about the world...
Early in 1975, said Boyce, he attended a party at the home of Lee, a convicted drug dealer who had violated his parole and was a fugitive. As the two drank wine and smoked pot late into the evening, the talk turned to politics and the complaints both had against the U.S. Government. "You ought to hear what the CIA is doing to the Australians," Boyce told his friend. Then he cited materials that had crossed his desk at TRW telling how the CIA had infiltrated Australian labor unions...
...evening I arrived there, we drank ale out of large goblets and I watched Harriet light the kerosene lamps. I tried to picture the upper middle class high school cheerleader my cousin had married. I remembered his spacious Coral Gables house with its electronic gadgetry and heated swimming pool and compared it to the room I sat in, scented with burning wood and plump pork chops, sizzling in the old-fashioned black oven. The small wooden farm house had neither electricity nor running water. One room served as the living room, dining room, kitchen and pantry. A ladder...