There is nothing scandalous about the conduct of high-functioning alcoholics in the Secret Service. It’s not a scandal. It’s a stupid. There is something that is sadly, essentially, and just so obviously stupid about the tales of drunken agents getting into fights, hiring prostitutes, passing out in hallways. The agency has become a Seth Rogen movie.
The most difficult part of the whole story has been to watch an agency with a reputation so sterling become so easily the butt of a joke. Remember when the only thing there was to make fun of was their dress uniform? The sunglasses, the earpieces, the starchy suits?
The most frustrating part is the conversations I’ve had with other agents about alcohol abuse. When I suggest that maybe members of details should abstain entirely from drinking, they think it’s absurd. These are grown men and women, I’m told. They know how to incorporate a post-shift cocktail into their routine, and they have to have some way to decompress about a hard day’s work. After all, they are human, and their job is just really difficult, and it would be draconian to deprive them of a legal way to ventilate. They’re defending the drug. They’re not defending their colleagues.
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