As the vocal leader of the movement to ban millennials from using the term “Sunday Funday” because it’s, well, an awful term, I can actually get behind what it stands for if the situation is right. There’s no better cure for a hangover than a hungover brunch that parlays itself into a mimo-induced golf nap, which in return causes you to be hungover all over again come six o’clock when you wake up and a wave of anxiety hits you upon realizing you go back to work the next day.
But up until this weekend, New York City was deprived of one of the most beautiful rights afforded to American citizens – drinking in the morning. Drinking in the morning is a time-honored tradition, but that tradition has been lost in New York City for the better part of 80 years. Yes, that’s eight decades where you couldn’t wake up on a Sunday morning and say to yourself, “I’m going to go to that bodega down the street and order me a beer.” Disgusting, right?
Well, that’s all changed. The much-discussed “Brunch Bill” has finally been signed into law and you can now order as many Bloodies as the bar will let you have starting as early as 10 a.m. There are even going to be a dozen special occasions throughout the year where it’ll be legal to order a morning cocktail as early as 8 a.m., you know, for when you’re really trying to lean into the bender.
What does this mean for anyone looking to brunch this weekend? Allow me to explain.
You’re going to have to show up incredibly early.
If you thought the lines were bad before this went through, it’s only getting worse. People are going to be banging down the door in an effort to be a part of this movement, so your two-hour wait just got even longer. But how can you not wait a couple hours for some ten-cent eggs on top of a piece of toast, amiright?
The bars are going to be an absolute mess come the afternoon.
Oh, you can drink in the morning now? In public? During week two of the NFL season? After a long Saturday of watching your alma mater play at another bar? When there’s nothing else to do because it’s, well, fucking fall outside? Uh, yeah, if you’re not trying to have a shot of Jager thrown up on your back while you belly up to a bar, you might want to sit this weekend out.
Monday is going to be the least productive day in New York City’s history.
Finance bros drinking RBVs at 11 in the morning, lifestyle bloggers getting sneaky hammered off some up-and-coming champs, marketing team leaders drinking enough to forget that they hate everyone they work with? Yeah, Sunday is a recipe for disaster that’s only going to end with one outcome – a hungover Monday where your entire office smells like booze sweats and regret.
Happy drinking, though. The 80 years of hell is finally over, and New York City has reached the promise land. .
[via NY Daily News]
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