Of all the bills introduced in this year's assorted legislatures, the one whose failure I most regret is not about budgetary concerns, medical malpractice, or smoking bans. It was about something far more important to the Southern citizen than any of those: sweet tea.

Georgia state Rep. John Noel and four co-sponsors introduced House Bill 819, which would have required all Georgia restaurants that serve tea to serve sweet tea. They weren't entirely serious, although Noel admitted he wouldn't mind if it became law. The bill would have made failure to serve sweet tea (as defined in section (a)) a 'misdemeanor of a high and aggravated nature.'

To the best of my knowledge this did not become law, which is too bad, as I would have pushed for a matching bill to be introduced here next year. I might suggest bumping it up to a felony, however. Next year would be the ideal time to propose pro-sweet tea legislation, as it marks the 100th anniversary of the 1904 World's Fair at which iced tea was first popularized. Even then, dumping ice in your drink was nothing noteworthy, but on a sweltering day in St. Louis (a southern city) a man named Richard Blechynden presided over a tea pavilion filled with piping hot drinks that nobody wanted. Desperate, he poured his tea over ice. It caught on, in a big way, and now rare indeed is the Southern restaurant that doesn't offer it by the pitcherful. South Carolina (a southern state) even adopted it as their state beverage.

Northerners don't understand sweet tea. They just don't. When I was in New York City I tried ordering some everywhere I went and got only blank stares, like I had ordered coffee with extra brine. More often than not I would hear the casual, uninformed, misguided dismissal every sweet-tea-drinker dreads: "You can just add sugar to it."

You poor, misguided fools. It doesn't work that way.

The sugar must be added during the brewing process so it melts instead of pooling in the bottom like mud, leaving bitter, unsweetened tea above. It must be served in a half-gallon-sized glass, with a straw. It must have plenty of ice. It must be brewed, not squirted from a fountain or mixed from a powder or poured from a can. And it must — I cannot stress this enough — it must have free refills.

The division between Southern tea and Northern tea is so marked that I wonder if there's a geographical element to it. Maybe the magic wears off at the Mason-Dixon line. Perhaps the need for sugar increases as you get closer to the equator. In Brazil the No. 1 drink of choice (after beer) is cachaca, a liquor made from distilled sugar cane juice, which explains the boundless energy of the Brazilian. Also Carnival.

But sweet tea is far beyond a mere pleasing drink or a simple method of ingesting a pound of sugar. It is nature's best defense against crippling heat prostration. You should be able to get medic alert bracelets for it. 'In case of heat stroke: one large glass, no lemon.'

Sucrosinated water steeped in dried leaves has helped me maintain my residency. One might think that after living in Central Florida for 36 years I would have become accustomed to hot weather. One would be laughably wrong.

My air conditioning kicks in halfway through March, as soon as the temperature outside approaches the hellish blast of 74 degrees. No one in my family is really an 'outdoors' person, except for that brief time in the spring when the temperature is just right, when the sun is warm but not hot, the breeze is cool but not cold, the humidity is negligible, and gentle rains are refreshing instead of flooding DeBary. I believe it happened on a Thursday this year.

Otherwise our outdoors experience is limited to the sprinted distance from the house to the car, and the "upholstered oven" effect of the car is suffered only because we know that wherever we go, there will be a cool drink waiting, properly prepared. That's because we simply don't go anywhere that does not have access to our preferred beverage.

During the summer navigating by sweet tea restaurants becomes a life-saving measure. We've been known to swing miles out of our way to go to stores located near a Chik-Fil-A or across the street from Sonny's BBQ. You may have a fine store, loaded with excellent merchandise at reasonable prices, but if it's stranded in a part of town that lacks convenient sources of sweet tea, such as a Long John Silver's, you will not benefit from our business. Sorry. When you want to make money in the desert, you need to be near the oasis.

Waitresses at our regular stops have learned to anticipate us and rush brimming glasses of sugary elixir to our table before we even get out of the car. They are angels of mercy, one and all, and should be honored right alongside paramedics, firemen, and whoever invented "Deep Woods Off."

Would this happen up north? I think not. It might even be possible that our predilection for sweet tea is a contributing factor to the relaxed, laid-back nature of the true Southerner. I'll be happy to assist anyone with a research grant that cares to investigate this theory, especially if you also provide biscuits.

So get out your petitions and signs and be ready for next year's legislation on a truly worthy cause. I'll tip my glass to you.