[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to the Town of La Pointe on Madeline Island and composed this article for the September 2004 issue of the Ripsaw magazine.]

Holy crap is it a beautiful night out here on Madeline Island. It’s warm, with a cool breeze coming off the lake, and I’m sprawled out on the sidewalk polishing off a 40 of Mickey’s Fine Malt Liquor and watching the Northern Lights burn across the entire sky, like the good Lord himself is vomiting white Russians all over the universe. I’m thankful to be alive. I’m lucky to be alive, too, as there are a lot of ways to die on this island, all of them alcohol related.

The downtown La Pointe area is small and concentrated, so it’s not unusual that a cop car has cruised by me a few times now. Each time I wave, and the cop waves back, because everything is fine; the speed limit here is 40 oz. See, unlike most of the United States of America, it’s perfectly legal on Madeline Island to walk around town with a beer in your hand, as if you live in a free country. You can carry your bottled or canned brew from one bar to the next, or just sit on a hollow log in front of the Chamber of Commerce and chug away. This place has everything Duluth has an ordinance against.