Harvard Bag

In the water soaked heat of August there is a leonine satisfaction in ordering a gyro at the corner Greek diner, then wandering over to the bodega for a gallon of water and a large Heineken. The nice Mexican lady behind the counter puts the water bottle in a plastic bag and then hands the beer, wrapped in its own little paper bag, to you directly. The assumption—you might want to drink it out on the sidewalk and the brown paper bag shields you a little.

"Is that allowed? Can you really drink a beer outside like that?" says my European friend, so accustomed to strict American police regulations that she can hardly believe a simple brown bag will allow you to consume the hops beverage under the open sky.

"Well, it works only so far as the police let you get away with it. There is an old guy over there in a t-shirt drinking something wrapped in paper. The police aren't going to bother him."

"So why did she give you a bag for your beer?"

"Cause, there is this veneer, if the police want to bother you, then the bag is no cover. If you are Skip Gates, and they happen to be looking for someone who looks like a professor with a cane, then they could easily use the open container wrapped in paper as an excuse to bring you in.

Even if they are not particularly looking for a professor, but they see you sitting on your front stoop with the can, they might still arrest you for disorderly conduct, because you look like Skip Gates drinking a beer."

"Too bad I went to Harvard," she said.