I've actually had a few beers with Colin Meloy in the past. Show in D.C. doing an interview for college paper. He wasn't drunk, but I will attest to him drinking (gasp!). And, as a self-conscious literary nerd (Melville rocks!) I'll also admit to being a fan of the booze. Is there no greater death than, a la Dylan Thomas, to die resting your head about a bar, your feet upon a brass rail, and your hand upon the base of a martini glass?