Bootlegger Navigation
- April 18th, 2008 11:41 am
When I was lying in the middle of my kitchen floor last night (because that’s where I have my nervous breakdowns),I started thinking about how funny it is to explain some of the aspects of growing up in a small town to someone.
For example, I have many funny teenage adventures to explain that all involve going to the bootlegger . The Bootlegger, you say? You’re now probably wondering if I am actually channeling you from the era of prohibition. Perhaps I somehow traveled through time. The answer is no.
You see, since I grew up in a small town where our county was “dry” there was no such thing as a liquor store. A “dry” county is one that does not permit the sell of alcohol within its borders.
Now, wily people of this town will not go without alcohol within a close proximity. So some choose to set up shop and illegally sell it out of their homes for outrageous prices that people will usually pay, because it was generally cheaper than driving an hour to the closest beer/liquor store.
Back to business:
When I was a teenager, it was way easier for us to get alcohol from the bootlegger than it would have ever been at a liquor store. At the bootlegger, you just drove up and they came out to your car and asked what you wanted. Then, they brought it out.
Curbside Service, folks. That’s one thing the bootlegger always had going for them.
“How might one locate a bootlegger in small town”you asked. And I’m glad you did.
You see, in a one horse town within the bible belt it is quite easy. They were generally located in the super redneck portion of town. To find one, all you do is follow the ‘Jesus Saves’ signs that the nice ladies at one of the churches took the time trespass to nail on a tree they didn’t own. Now, I’m not mocking the Jesus signs. But the fact they existed and could serve as navigation is just a cold hard fact of life. They were there, and you could find your way to the bootlegger by following them.
In fact, you could find your way any place that was viewed as ‘unholy’ by following the Jesus signs. They were sort of like discreet street signs leading you down paths that someone regular Joe had deemed as the road to hell.
Since I usually took them, I’ll give you an example:
If lost on the way to the bootlegger, you might reach a fork on a road laden with rusted single-wide trailers. Which way do I turn, you ask? Right or left?
That’s easy. Does the right side of the road have the ‘HE IS COMING’ sign or does the left side have one? The left, you say? Then, turn in that direction. As the signs start growing more frequent, like every other tree. That means you are getting really close. Then, when you notice the signs are anchored to every possible surface. BAM! You are within what has to be a 50 ft. radius of the bootlegger.
Now, you have to look for a giant garage like structure, or perhaps an abandoned barn. Both in one area is a true indicator and generally a bonus. That means the bootlegger truly means business. You see, small town bootleggers frequently get busted and have all of their product raided. This means they have to move around some and switch up their locations. One month you just pull up to the giant garage door and they come out. The next they might direct you to barn where some random person holding beer rode up on a 4-wheeler to bring the beer out to you. (which was sort of scary, particularly if you are a car full of girls unsure of how to deal with corn-fed ogres that have jimmy-knotted a case of beer to the side of a 4-wheeler, but hey, you have to analyze your priorities.)
The funniest aspect of the bootleggers was the fact that while they were illegally running a business, they had hours. Yes, the bootlegger quit selling alcohol at midnight. I always found it mildly amusing they if you pulled up at 12:01 (not that I ever did, heh) you were not getting any alcohol. Because hey, bootlegging is apparently a serious business.
You could NOT show up late to the bootlegger. No alcohol meant you might not have any alcohol for the big field party. But field partys are a whole other post too, I’ll save that one for next week.
April 18th, 2008 @ 11:55 am
Nice writing style. Looking forward to reading more from you.
Chris Moran
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April 18th, 2008 @ 12:33 pm
I grew up in a small town too. It’s funny when I try to explain to people that I used to go to parties that were out in the country on the side of the road….
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April 18th, 2008 @ 12:38 pm
Hours of operation? — oh that’s awesome.
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April 18th, 2008 @ 1:34 pm
i’m pretty sure i know what bootlegger you’re talking about, basically the only one in our town. the funny thing is, the cops knew about this “person” and never busted him, they’d go to get alcohol themselves. i love our town
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April 18th, 2008 @ 2:09 pm
Ha! I was just getting ready to ask if you ever had what we called “pasture parties”? Pasture parties, field parties…same thing…especially since you need a bootlegger for both!
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April 18th, 2008 @ 2:47 pm
That’s quite fascinating in an odd kind of way.
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April 18th, 2008 @ 2:50 pm
I agree with xBox. Facinating. I love stories like this. Keem ‘em coming girl!!
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April 18th, 2008 @ 4:35 pm
Wow, you did live out in the sticks, and I’m so glad because it’s made for a fun story. Business hours? Just too funny.
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April 18th, 2008 @ 4:58 pm
Are you SURE you didn’t travel through time??? (hehe) I’m with Xbox and Luna – that IS a fascinating post.
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April 18th, 2008 @ 9:00 pm
Can you imagine plugging the bootlegger into your GPS and having it read out the Jesus signs in an English accent as you get closer and closer? Maybe you can’t…just my silly overactive imagination having fun. This was a fabulously hilarious post, and I really enjoyed learning about bootleggers! Small towns really do have a culture all their own. Thanks for translating!
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April 18th, 2008 @ 10:04 pm
LOL… I totally remember that curb side service.
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April 19th, 2008 @ 7:27 am
I live in a small town as well, but we’re far from being a dry town. We’re so far from being dry…
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April 19th, 2008 @ 9:30 am
you should write a tour guide book of your little small town and include more of these wonderful gems. I would go just to see for myself!
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April 19th, 2008 @ 1:45 pm
I grew up in Greenup County, Kentucky and it’s still a dry county as were all the counties around us. Our solution was a bit more simple: just drive across the bridge to Ohio where the local businesses were more than happy to sell whatever the Kentucky kids wanted. I was always kind of scared when we crossed that bridge. Ohio will forever have that connotation for me…
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April 19th, 2008 @ 8:42 pm
Ha! My in-laws have relatives that still make moonshine….
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April 19th, 2008 @ 9:20 pm
My step-brother brews his own ’shine,’ puts it in little festival jars, and gives with away for Christmas. It would be good for peeling paint.
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April 19th, 2008 @ 9:28 pm
They were orchard parties where I came from. I don’t know if we had a bootlegger but then it wasn’t a dry county either.
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April 19th, 2008 @ 10:06 pm
That’s a great story! Loved it!
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April 19th, 2008 @ 11:30 pm
God, I grew up in a dry county too, in KY.
We also had our local drug supplier, Henry.
He looked like Seal, drove a fancy car and lived in a hovel.
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April 20th, 2008 @ 3:30 am
i too lived in a dry county, so this post made me laugh about my own high school days!
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April 20th, 2008 @ 4:19 am
I am in Australia. If there was no beer there would be no work done.
I don’t like beer, apparently that makes me un-Australian. Meh.
Would have loved to visit a bootlegger though, did he serve wine at the perfect temperature???
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April 20th, 2008 @ 10:04 am
This is what you were thinking about in the middle of a breakdown? Were you out of alcohol?
I agree with everyone else – this was fascinating. I’m always intrigued by the idea of dry counties. I don’t think we have those here. If we did, you can be sure I’d live nowhere near one.
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April 20th, 2008 @ 11:10 am
For awhile there, you had me convinced we’d grown up in the same place. Only our bootleggers lived in what would have been called the ghetto if we were a city, which we were about a million citizens shy of being. Or you could drive 11 miles (REALLY fast, of course) to the state line, step over it, and enter the 18-year-old side of a building which apparently existed only to sell beer and pickled eggs. And then there were the times someone would put a keg in the trunk of their car and everyone would meet at the drive-in movie to not watch the movie. Of course I’d nail my teenagers in their rooms if I ever caught them doing any of these things…
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April 20th, 2008 @ 2:22 pm
First, that’s hysterical. Second, I want to know if when the bootleggers found it necessary to relocate, did they ever let the wind whisper to the little old ladies so the signs could be relocated, too? I mean, if that’s how customers found the place, then the little old ladies were necessary to their business! hehe
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April 20th, 2008 @ 9:03 pm
Ya gotta love a lawless business owner who has some limits! Fun story!
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April 20th, 2008 @ 10:24 pm
great post..thanks for the edumacation!!
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April 21st, 2008 @ 11:32 am
Dry town or not, this is the same. Ha! Totally hilarious post, really. coming from someone who used to try to drive around to the various “fields” to find the parties.
Thanks for the laugh. Needed it today!
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April 21st, 2008 @ 12:49 pm
I’m so happy we didn’t live in a dry county! Finding alcohol as a minor involved the same level of complexity though. I’m right there with you on the field parties though!
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April 21st, 2008 @ 1:04 pm
That was great, I’ve never even thought of something like this existing. And field parties, can’t wait to hear about those! In Arizona we have desert parties and forest parties, depending on what part of the state you live in.
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April 21st, 2008 @ 2:53 pm
The closest thing we had was drive through liquor stores when you cross state lines..Gina’s..I’ll never forget..
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April 22nd, 2008 @ 6:48 am
Dry towns suck.
‘Nuff said.
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April 22nd, 2008 @ 11:42 am
Love it. It’s amazing how resourceful bored, horny, desperate adolescents can be..no matter where you live!! I miss youth…
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April 23rd, 2008 @ 8:40 pm
Too funny! Did they have opening hours too? (I mean, like, did you have to wait until they were done with breakfast or something?)
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May 5th, 2008 @ 2:39 pm
Nice story. I couldn’t stand that.
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May 11th, 2009 @ 6:33 pm
[...] I have a great post about growing up in a small town and going to bootlegger. It’s about a year old and found [...]
May 11th, 2009 @ 10:41 pm
I could so totally relate to this post. I grew up in town identical to yours…down to the field party or my fave…3 Left…you know you go to that dirt road take 3 left turns and you are there!!!
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