An unforeseen encounter with a capricious (and gradually improving) alcohol regulation
It was just past six o’clock on a Sunday evening—the odd interval when Minnesota’s liquor laws swing between permissible and forbidden in the same breath.
I had been reconnecting with a group of old friends at Utepils Brewing in Minneapolis, and as we moved toward the exit, I grabbed a few cans of the brewery’s flagship pilsner with the intention of taking them home. The bartender declined to complete the sale.
Had I overindulged? Not at all. In fact, she would have been happy to pour another round for all of us.
The beer itself was legally shippable, and the cans marked “to go” in the cooler were indeed available for purchase—just not at that exact moment.
In Minnesota, to-go alcohol purchases are permitted until 10 p.m. on most days, but the cutoff is four hours earlier on Sundays.
The more one reflects on it, the less sensible that rule appears. If I’d wanted another pilsner while relaxing in Utepils’ beautiful beer garden, I would have been welcome to do so. If I’d intended to buy six beers to share with friends, that would have been perfectly legal. If I’d approached the bar a few minutes sooner—before the arbitrary 6 p.m. cutoff—I could have lawfully bought those cans to take away. If it had been any other day of the week, the purchase would have been fine.
I was a willing customer, and there was a business eager to take my money in exchange for six cans of beer.
Alas, there was someone I forgot to consult: Minnesota’s legislators.
Of course, Minnesota isn’t alone in having silly, arbitrary rules about when alcohol can be bought and sold. In my home state of Virginia, I must visit two different stores to purchase beer and tequila. In Indiana, grocery stores aren’t allowed to sell cold beer. Everywhere has its own peculiar restrictions, and navigating them successfully is part of the character of living there. On that Sunday night, the puzzled look I wore when told I couldn’t buy beer to go from a cooler clearly labeled for takeout likely marked me as an outsider.
These rules are inherently arbitrary—there is no rational public-health rationale for permitting beer sales at 5:55 p.m. on a Sunday yet forbidding them ten minutes later—and they almost always carry a political subtext. In Minnesota, the underlying motive is that liquor stores must close at 10 p.m. on weekdays and at 6 p.m. on Sundays. Breweries, bars, and restaurants may stay open later, but the cap on takeaway sales is designed to shield liquor stores from competition. Here’s a radical thought: simply allow people to buy and sell whatever they want, whenever they want.
And to be fair, Minnesota has been moving in the right direction.
Before 2017, you couldn’t buy beer or liquor to go on Sundays at all. If you were hosting a Super Bowl gathering and waited until the last minute to stock up, you’d end up driving to Wisconsin, where border liquor stores line up to seize the sales Minnesota prohibits.
Sunday takeaway sales are now legal, which means the stubborn 6 p.m. cutoff now serves as a sign of expanding personal freedom in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. The state has also loosened its alcohol rules in several other ways lately, including the legalization of THC-infused hard seltzers.
Freedom is a journey, not a destination. Yet it’s a journey that still can’t be completed with a six-pack on a Sunday night.
