I was tired. Three-thirty on a Sunday evening, on my way home after a long weekend waiting tables, I stopped at the liquor store. In Washington State, only government-run stores can sell my precious vodka. "How is it that, in a free society, access to a simple bottle of bottom-shelf vodka is subject to the whims of bureaucrats?" This was the question that worked it's way through my weary, cloudy, and confused head as I pulled on a locked door.
